Reflections, Realisations, Regrets
by naomis8329
Summary: Written totally from Anders POV this is his story, in his words, stretching from his beginning to his end wherever that may lead me. Biggest thanks ever to my beta Eastern Violet from the CMDA site, you totally rock, I just hope I don't drive you insane, her help has been invaluable :D
1. Chapter 1

**Reflections, Realisations and Regrets**

**Chapter 1: In the Beginning Part 1**

There was family and friends, joy and love, acceptance and loyalty, community and closeness, for ten years all was right with the world and everything in it. Now I'm nothing, lost, filled with confusion, fear, loathing, trying to understand what happened, where it all went wrong.

I was five summers old when my magical ability presented itself, I managed to burn down part of a barn belonging to Tom Bentley and his family in Rainsfere. We left soon after heading north past Lake Calenhad before settling in the Teyrnir of Highever. Our home was inside the city limits not far from my parents rented shop on the main street. After years of travelling from the Anderfels, hoarding and saving, we had enough money to settle down and enjoy life, we being my father who was a carpenter, and my mother, brother and sister who all had abilities like me. As it was not so long since the end of the rebellion people needed healing both spiritually and physically. Mother Mallol of the Chantry took care of the spiritual side and my mother the physical. There was no Chantry building and no templar presence in Highever at that time, all Chantry services were conducted at the Castle. Mother Mallol and my mother became firm friends over the years. This bond had been forged as a result of my mother saving the life of Teyrna Eleanor Cousland whilst giving birth to her second child, Aidan. In the years that followed, the Teyrnir the people of Highever prospered, and they protected us.

Naturally, as is the way of the world, such things do not last. Whilst my brother and sister developed their magical ability in the relative safety and shelter of Highever, others came to the city who were not so prepared to believe in the rights of those with magical abilities. As a result our training in magic was conducted secretly, and we were not allowed to use our magic outside our classroom and training area; the cellar. Mother was always approached for her services via a trusted intermediary and if some "unknown" came for her it was vehemently denied that we knew of whom they spoke. Such suspicions grew as the years passed and eventually a Chantry was built in the city and Mother Mallol was relegated to tending to those in the Keep and Revered Mother Judith came to reside in the City with a contingent of templars. Thus began the time of suspicion and fear for my family.

During my fifteeth year my world tilted and what I knew came to an abrupt end. We had heard of the Mage Hunters, Templars who specialised in hunting down apostates either killing them outright or sending them to the Magi Towers either here in Fereldan or further away in Orlais, Kirkwall or Starkhaven. Two families known to us were brutally slain and the children in question were whisked away in the dead of night to parts unknown and the dead burnt within their homes. My mother became fearful and we rarely ventured outside the city without adult supervision and at times, due to the number of templars inside the city walls, we rarely left the house or shop. We were, of course, trained in masking our powers. Brina and I took after our mother as spirit healers, while Brett was more talented in the elemental magics and found healing difficult, at times nigh on impossible although he did have an aptitude for alchemy. My father adored us all and taught Brett and I to work with wood. Mother taught us cooking and other skills. "After all," they both said, "we would have to fend for ourselves some day."

As a young man, our family friends knew our secret and never uttered a word to anyone outside our circle. Talia lived on a small farm outside the city. When her father and eldest brother met with bandits on the road, the family called upon mother, as things were grim and they would not last without healing. Mother asked Brett and I to accompany her, leaving Brina with our father to run the shop whilst we were gone. The outward journey was clear of incident and we arrived at the farm before sundown and mother and I began working on the injured. We were lost in our work, nothing interrupted our focus. Our ability to commune with the spirits in the Fade assisted our healing, it took concentration and a great deal of power to control. Brett was occupying the younger children with a magic show of summer snowflakes and thus had no idea that danger was fast approaching.

As morning came, templars, on the road to Highever passed the farm and sensed the use of magic. There were half a dozen or more and whether they were returning from the hunt or just reinforcements for the City I will never know, but they arrived before we could do anything to protect ourselves. Brett burst into the room where mother and I were working. The family was doing their best to shield us and in that moment I knew what needed to be done. Mother and Brett were ushered into the root cellar hidden by furniture and rugs, and I went outside to meet those who would harm my family and friends. I was never more frightened, knowing that I could be cut down just for confessing to having magic at my disposal.

I guess I was lucky that Ser Bran and Ser Percy of the Mages Tower at Kinloch Hold were riding with them. As templars from the tower they were more used to dealing with young mages as they first arrived, knew how to handle their fear and mistrust. They had a natural ability to diffuse threatening behaviour from their hunter colleagues. If they had not been there, I dread to imagine what could have taken place. I went outside just as the hunters were beginning to pressure Talia and her Mother about the presence of magic within the house.

"Sers, I believe I'm the one you're looking for." I said. I held my head high as I looked at them refusing to show my fear.

"You. You're the one using magic?" said one of the templars, "How old are ya lad?"

"Fifteen summers." I replied. "The men inside are mostly healed, with poultices and care, they will recover fully given time."

"Who are ya boy, where're your parents?" asked another templar.

I paused for a moment before deciding to use the nickname given to me by my friends in an effort to draw the danger away from my family totally.

"I'm called Anders, my parents died on the road, Ser. I've been living in the wilds and heard that there were people in need of healing magic. I came to see what I could do."

"I'm sorry lad, but you'll have to come with us. What you have done for these people is a good and decent thing, but you can't be allowed to stay on your own without protection and training." said the templar I later found out to be Ser Bran. "You'll have to come with us."

I bowed my head knowing if I argued or tried to run the consequences would be bad for both myself and those around me. I made my decision, gave myself up and hoped that they believed that one person could do what had been done, and that they would not search for others.

"Very well Ser," I replied, "I'll come with you, but I ask one thing."

"Yes boy." said Ser Bran.

"Where will you be taking me?" I asked.

"Kinloch Hold, boy, the Tower of Magi in Fereldan. You'll receive an education and training like no other. Your magic will serve others and you'll have others around you that are like you." came the reply.

Like that, the deed was done. My hands were chained using metal cuffs set with runes which effectively dissipated my magical abilities. I was then put into the back of a covered wagon and we immediately left Highever. Not once did I look back, not once did I let them know that there were others in the house that were like me. I did not cry for what I lost. Not then. Not ever.


	2. Chapter 2

**Reflections, Realisations and Regrets**

**Chapter 2: In the Beginning Part 2**

_**AN: **Thank you so much for reading and the reviews so far. They have been great, and have been instrumental in pushing me to do more, thanks guys. Thanks also to my amazing beta **Eastern Violet **without whom my forays into writing would most probably end up reading like my five year old grand daughter's essay on "What I Did During The Summer Holidays", thank you so much, your time and efforts are gratefully received and appreciated. Now, as they say, on with the story..._

After some argument between the templars as to what should happen to me that first night, we were escorted by the Highever squad as far as the Teyrnir border. From there, it took nearly a week to travel to Kinloch Hold. Ser Bran and Ser Percy answered any questions I had, but I felt something wasn't right, although I couldn't for the life of me put my finger on it. I was worried for those left behind, would they be safe, would they be put to the sword for receiving help from an apostate, would there be a cleansing of the area because of me? All these questions and more rolled around inside of me and eventually I had to give them voice. Ser Bran, the younger of the two, about ten years older than I, tried to calm my fears and reassure me that no harm would come to the farmers as I had come willingly and without malice. Ser Percy nodded in agreement. I let it go and hoped for the best.

I was told that the Magi Tower was a training facility. There, I'd learn how to channel my powers properly and how to control myself. Additionally, I'd learn how to defend myself from demons who would try to corrupt me and my gift. In time, if I proved myself, I'd be able to leave the tower to go on research missions, help the military, or even find a position with a wealthy family as a healer. This gave me hope, my spirit soared and I believed I could get through this and possibly find my family again if the Maker could just get me through this "training." A childish dream, my hopes were as fragile as glass and shattered when the door of that cold, stone place slammed shut.

It was dark when we arrived, so I didn't see much of it from outside. I remember the face of the ferryman, about the same age as my father, who chattered constantly as we crossed the lake to the dock. I stared at the dark waters, watching the oars dip and lift rhythmically, almost hypnotically, all the while the ferryman talking to me and my guards. I lent forward as something caught my eye, I'd seen something slide silently under the boat. Then a hand on my shoulder, Ser Percy shaking his head and blinking rapidly, I settled back onto the wooden seat. As we drew closer to the Tower I remember thinking how dark it looked, the stone glistening as the moon rose above the hills on the opposite bank. Small yellow rectangles and circles of light shone periodically up the side, but the thing that caught me was how black it looked. Menacing, cold, the only thing missing was bars on the windows, which for all I knew could have been there, just impossible to see in the darkness.

A soft bump, and I jumped, we'd reached the dock and the ferryman hopped out with a surety that only those whom spend most of their lives on water seem to possess. Tying up the little boat, quickly and safely, he held out his hand to me and I took the opportunity to grasp it. The warm touch of another person who didn't regard me with suspicion and fear, it was a brief blessing. I moved past him as Ser Bran and Ser Percy climbed out behind me. Then he smiled, wished me luck, and immediately departed for the far shore, taking his friendly banter and laughing eyes with him.

Two men, stationed outside of the Tower, opened the doors as we approached and I was ushered into a large hall where more templars stood alert and at the ready. For what, I couldn't imagine. Surely they didn't think I was going to attack them, not one boy against six grown men in full armor, carrying swords and goodness knows what else! My manacles were removed and I immediately felt dizzy, disorientated, at a loss. I stumbled and Ser Bran caught my arm.

"Easy, Anders," he said, "it'll take a day or so, but your magic will return naturally. It's a necessary precaution and one that protects you as much as those outside the Tower," he grinned. "You'll soon be right as rain and ready for anything, you'll see."

I tried to smile back but it didn't feel right. Nothing felt right and I doubted it ever would.

I was taken to a small room where a bath was steaming, clean clothes were piled on a chair in the corner and soaps had been placed on a stand next to the tub. I quickly undressed and relished the warmth of the water, the smell of the soap, the hushed voices behind me. I realised how tired I was, drained of all feeling and needing sleep. I washed every inch of myself from the ends of my hair to the tips of my toes and when satisfied that I was completely clean, got out of the tub and dried myself off. I put on clean smalls and picked up what I thought was a shirt, but it was a robe. There were thin linen pants and shirt to go underneath; in all a total surprise. I had never seen a trained mage before, and couldn't understand why they would wear something so restrictive, my Mother had of course worn a dress as had Brina on occasion, however Brett and I always wore trousers and shirts, this was so, different. I dressed and left the room to find two new people in the hall. They were older and their manner and bearing told me that they were people of importance, so I waited whilst they spoke to Ser Bran and Ser Percy.

Ser Bran eventually noticed me in the doorway and took me across to meet them. The one in armor was introduced as Knight-Captain Greagoir, second in command of the templars at Kinloch Hold. The other man was dressed in fine robes, he was First Enchanter Irving, senior mage of Kinloch Hold. Both men looked me over, greeted me and said they'd see me the following day for orientation. With that they left me in the company of an older female enchanter called Wynne who took me to the male apprentice dormitories and showed me my bunk. To this day, I can't recall what she said to me that night. No matter how hard I try, it eludes me, but I guess by then the shock of my situation had finally hit me. For the next few months I went through the motions of living without thinking, without feeling, trying to forget what I had given up, trying to look forward not back, but oh it was so hard not to break down and scream and shout and beat my head off the walls. Somehow I made it through, somehow I began to think clearly, somehow I began to plan for the day I could get out, get away, get back that which had been taken from me. I would do it, I swore on the Maker himself, one day I'd be free.


	3. Chapter 3

**Reflections, Realisations and Regrets**

**Chapter 3: The Prisoner Part 1**

_**AN: **Thank you so much for reading and the reviews they have been an amazing source of inspiration, instrumental in pushing me to do even more so thank you so much for your input. Thanks also to my amazing beta **Eastern Violet **she has been an inspiration and pushed me to do more with Anders and I'm loving it. Now, once more, on with the story..._

I will not linger on my days in the Tower, other than to say I made some good friends, lasting enemies and learnt how to mask my feelings, emotions and thoughts from all around me. Maybe I should have let my friends in, told them how I felt, the truth about, my family, everything, but I couldn't. I couldn't risk losing any more of myself. I had to shield myself from anything that caused me pain. I became good at it, very good, maybe too good.

The things I had become accustomed to, love, a mother's gentle touch, my father telling us stories of my parents travels, my mother's wonderful cooking, my father's smell of wood and oil, my brother and sister's easy banter, didn't existed here. Yes, I could talk with other mages, but it was different, not the same and never would be. The smells were clinical and utilitarian; nothing was familiar. The food for the most part, was grey to look at and tasted the same. Only on festival days did we have anything approaching edible.

I learnt about magic, history, alchemy, battle strategy and sex. I forgot about wood working, cooking and love.

Then one day I escaped. It was unplanned and totally disorganised, but I took my chance and went for it. The door to the kitchen gardens had been left open. I scaled the wall, sprinted down to the shore, and tried to swim the lake. I was just sixteen summers old, had been at the tower for approximately six months. I was totally unprepared, but for a few hours I was free.

The door to the kitchen gardens had stood open and without thinking, I went through it. Running past the raised planters filled with herbs and the vegetable gardens I fled toward the wall at the far end. It wasn't very high, maybe just over six foot tall and built of quarried granite the same colour as the tower.

As I approached the wall, I noticed there were few hand or footholds but there was a tree standing between the surrounding wall and the tower face. I began to climb, shimmying across a branch that hung atop the wall.

Carefully finding my footing on the brickwork, I looked down and realised that I couldn't just jump, there was only a little bit of a land between the wall and the lake. I would have to lower myself down and then find a safe place to swim across the lake. I doubted the ferryman, Kester, would be around to take me.

I carefully lowered myself down over the other side of the wall and slowly crab stepped to my right. Eventually I left the wall behind me and could see the shore on the other side of the lake. I was on the south side of the island and in the distance could see red cliffs that shimmered in the haze of the sun.

I trotted around the shore until I could clearly see the other side of the lake, the tree line beyond it and further behind that, a mountain range tipped with snow that looked like drizzled icing on a cake. I made my decision and waded into the water. I gauged that it would take me approximately fifteen minutes or so to reach the other side. I was a strong swimmer so had no fear of the water at all.

What I hadn't realised was how cold the water would be, guessing that it must be deep in parts. Gritting my teeth, I sank lower into the water and pushed off. Quickly, my robes became heavier, the woollen weave retained the water and pulled me down.

With each stroke was becoming harder and harder to pull through the water, I was now battling both the cold and the weight of my clothing. I debated whether to tread water and pull myrobes off, however the laces were tight and I couldn't get my fingers to properly untie them.

As a bone shattering weariness began to creep over me, I heard chiming bells, raised voices, templars calling out to each other, and my name shouted. My absence had been noticed, they were looking for me. I had to hurry before I was spotted. All this and more grounded me, I found new reserves of strength and began swimming in earnest.

Seventy, sixty, fifty yards from the shore, closer getting closer all the time, then water above me, below me, around me. I was under water, something was pulling me down and backwards into the depths. My lungs started to scream for air, I was clawing at the water, desperately trying to swim up, but whatever it was, held me tight and I couldn't break free. Images, flashes of light in front of my eyes assailed me. Instead of of air, I gulped water and began to choke, to panic. My hand closed over my mouth to try and stop myself from breathing. My body and mind were screaming out for air I was drowning and there was nothing I could do.

I opened my eyes and saw the sun shining on the surface of the lake above me. I felt weightless, boneless, drifting; I let go. A flash of shadow hovered over me. Strong hands grasped my robes and pulled. Not able to move, I felt, something pass by me and grasped my ankle. I was free. Blood pooled up and out around me. There was no pain, nothing. I couldn't help or communicate. I was watching without knowing and the feeling was surreal.

Bright light, pressure on my chest, a mouth covering mine, my lungs filling with air, voices talking to me, encouraging me to breathe. My stomach cramped, my lungs cramped, water filled my mouth and I expelled it in a rush covering all those around me with lake water, bile and Maker knows what else.

"Maker be praised." said a disembodied voice from behind me. I lay gasping like a landed fish, drawing fresh, clean air into my tortured lungs, coughing and spluttering with each breath. "He lives Knight-Captain."

"So I see." came the dry response.

I opened my eyes to see the grey eyes of Knight-Captain Greagoir glaring at me, with anger and something akin to worry and relief.

"Let's get him back to the Tower, take him to the infirmary Ser Bran." he said. "I'll check on him after the evening meal."

With that he left me lying on the shore, surrounded by templars, wet, covered in vomit and lake water, feeling very sorry for myself.

Ser Bran's gentle hands helped me stand and with Ser Percy they carried me to a boat on the shore. I sent a silent prayer to the Maker and leaned against my rescuers, unable to feel my legs properly.

Once in the boat, I closed my eyes and leaned into the warmth of Ser Bran who wrapped a blanket around my shoulders and helped me take a sip of water.

"What on earth possessed you to do something so stupid?" he asked, his anger underlying his tone.

I shook my head, unable to do anything more. I was drained. My whole body ached and I just wanted to curl up into a ball and sleep. Forever would be good.

I awoke, I was in a clean bed, in clean linen clothes, with a hand holding mine. The calloused thumb gently stroked the back of my hand in an abstract, comforting gesture.

I looked up to find Ser Bran sitting by the bed on a straight-backed wooden chair, reading a book, oblivious to all around him. I coughed and he looked at me and smiled.

"Well, well, well, you're awake. Good, the Knight-Captain wants to see you." he said and left.

Wynne came to me and helped me sit up, plumping up the pillows and arranging them to support me. "Are you hungry Anders?" she asked. I nodded, unable to speak. My chest and stomach hurt and my leg was on fire.

Frowning, I moved my injured appendage and Wynne sat in the chair vacated by my templar guardian. "You were attacked by something in the lake young man," she admonished, "you're lucky to be alive. Ser Bran hasn't left your side since he and Ser Percy carried you in. I've tried healing the wounds on your leg but whatever got hold of you managed to inject you with some sort of venom. It's not fatal but will take time to heal and there may be some scarring on your calf."

I looked at her and nodded. "I'll go and get some food for you." she said, smiling. "How about some ham and leek soup with fresh bread?" I nodded again more enthusiastically and she left, passing the Knight-Commander and Ser Bran on the way.

I must have looked like I was going to disappear in a puff of smoke by the time they reached the bed as the Knight-Captain's face went from thunderous to admonishing by the time he reached my side.

"How are you feeling, apprentice?" he asked.

"Better than I did." I croaked, looking embarrassed and wanting to hide.

"You nearly died, you nearly got Ser Bran killed, you were very foolish Anders." He said, his voice filled with anger.

I looked at him in trepidation, knowing that he had every right to punish me any way he saw fit.

"However, I'm hoping that you have learned your lesson, that your scare will be sufficient punishment and will put and end to any further escapades." he said looking at me hard. I gulped and nodded. "Very well, you shall assist Wynne in cleaning the infirmary for the next month, once you are able to stand." He said. "Understand this though, should you try anything so stupid again, I will not be as lenient."

Upon returning to the dormitories the looks of horror I received from some of the apprentices embarrassed and for some unknown reason shamed me. My friends were relieved and asked question upon question about how I managed my escape and what had happened. It filled me with such bravado and I knew I had to try again, using what I had learned from my first attempt.

Petra, Kinnon and Niall were my first friends. Jowan joined our group three years later. Christie and Neria came a year after that. We were close, but not quite as close as my siblings had been to me. That's because I hid a part of myself I wish now I hadn't, but hindsight is a wonderful thing and truly a gift for the older and wiser.

At eighteen summers, I escaped again and failed, but this time I spent more than a day away from the tower. The punishment was harder, but I endured and began planning once again. I was determined to learn everything I could about the Tower, the building, its secrets. I was determined to find out everything about it.

By the time I was twenty-six, I was a seasoned harrowed mage. The Harrowing is a test to prove that mages can withstand a demon and thereby be called a true mage. I had escaped the Tower and failed another three times and lived through numerous punishments. By the time King Maric's son Cailan was crowned I would be about to escape for the sixth time.

I got as far as Denerim that time, and it was amazing. I was living it large and wild, keeping to the seedier parts of the city, making money at the local brothels as a healer whilst trying to decide where to go and what to do next. I knew I would have to leave Ferelden but I wasn't sure where. I wasn't aware that there was a bounty on me, and people will do anything for money when they are desperate enough, even give up someone they supposedly needed and admired.

Rylock was leading "them" this time. Rylock, my nemesis. Oh, how she hated me, maybe even more than I hated her at that time, but Maker knows, once she became a Knight-Lieutenant in charge of her own squad of Mage Hunters, our fates were sealed.

They found me at The Squire, a small but reputable brothel in the Docklands area of the city. A remarkably high priced establishment, it catered to the more discerning user. After assisting in the birth of a baby boy and the healing one of the young men, I was having a quiet drink and something to eat in the lounge, watching the patrons come and go, trying to guess what "services" they had used. It was a favourite pastime of mine. It helped pass the time of course, but it was also relaxing, and allowed me to recharge my magical energies before moving onto the next patient or place of work.

Brothels perform more than one type of service. You may be surprised to hear that many a business deal has been sealed over a bottle of wine and a good back rub. A game of cards has more meaning than just the winning and losing of gold, and a "private" party can host different nations as well as sexual appetites. I have often wondered how many political marriages, deals and treaties have been agreed in the bedroom whilst performing an Antivan sandwich.

I ate my dinner, while watching the comings and goings of a group of Antivan merchants being shown into one of the bigger back rooms by one of my favourite workers. What I wouldn't have given to be a fly on that wall. A blast of cold air and the front doors opened. Approximately six men entered, looked around, and took a table nearby. They called over one of the young ladies and ordered drinks and food and, like me, watched the entertainment on offer. This in and of itself was not unusual. However, most came for the entertainment behind closed doors not in the lounge. Also for a group of people they were uncommonly quiet. No idle chatter, laughter, nothing. The hairs rose on the back of my neck and so I decided to leave as soon as possible without drawing attention to myself.

Signalling the madam that I was ready to leave, she paid me the coin owed and after I offered my quick goodbyes, I left the building, relishing the cool breeze coming off the estuary and the ambient light of the evening shadows. I strolled along the quiet street, into the unknowing, aimlessly enjoying the peace and quiet of the early evening. In actual fact, I was trying to make sure I wasn't being followed as I made my way to the lodgings I had procured in the area.

A left, a left, a right, another right. I looked into the store fronts closed for the night, wandering to my destination. I was so close, so very close. Out of nowhere they came. Four of the six from the brothel; the lead disabled me as he approached. There is nothing like the feeling of the weightlessness, losing yourself, your centre and your state of being. My legs buckled beneath me and I tried to stop my downward momentum, but there was nothing left, I was boneless. My mind went blank whilst I frantically tried to make sense of what was happening. Then, Rylock's steel boot caught me in the temple. Then there was nothing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Reflections, Realisations and Regrets**

**Chapter 4: The Prisoner Part 2**

_Many thanks to my wonderful beta Eastern Violet, you are a blessing._

_Thanks to all who have read, reviewed and made suggestions._

_Bioware owns all, I've just had some fun with the characters provided._

My first lucid thought was wanting to strangle the invisible man in my head swinging the hammer against my skull.

My second was, "Why am I bouncing up and down?"

And my third: "Oh Maker! I can't feel my legs."

I groaned and a disembodied voice to my left said "You'll be okay Anders. Relax. We're stopping for the night soon."

Darkness descended again.

The invisible man was still swinging the hammer when I woke the second time, but now it felt like it was wrapped in cotton; it wasn't as harsh, hard or loud. I tried to open my eyes, but wishing I hadn't bothered, the pain was excruciating and blinding.. I raised my hands to shield my eyes, only to realise that I was once again, manacled. The same voice washed over me, telling me to stay still, that they would help, things would get better once I had eaten and had something to drink, and not to fight the sensations inside me. I wanted to scream in frustration, but my mouth refused to work; it was dry, cracked and hurt like hell.

Someone removed their gauntlets and helped me sit up. A cup was pressed to my mouth and the water, so cold and fresh, trickled down my throat and into my stomach, soothing me from the inside out. There was something else, it tasted sweet, like honey and good, oh so good, before I could think about it properly, I took another mouthful and I swallowed reflexively. The world stopped spinning and I could open my eyes without wanting to pluck them out.

It was Elfroot, and it restored my equilibrium. The manacles were still subduing my magic, but I was healing slowly from the inside out. The young templar who had helped me, used the water to wash away the blood and grim from my temple and face, before handing me a bowl of rabbit stew and a spoon.

I ate like I'd never had food before, the juices ran down my chin, but I didn't care. I was so hungry. What is it about the Holy Smite and needing to eat afterwards? Is it a drop in blood sugars, or the way it strips you of everything, including your humanity. Maker only knows and for those few minutes I ate and ate and ate. He refilled my bowl a second time and this I ate slowly whilst relishing the taste and texture. Nothing had ever tasted so good.

There were four of them, young to middle aged, but experienced. They were confident and wouldn't be taken for fools. None of them wore an officer's insignia and I wondered who else would be joining us. Where was Rylock? Oh Maker, where was Rylock?

My body needed relief and the templar who'd helped me, led me to the latrine ditch. Back at the camp fire, I was handed another cup of water which I drank without thinking. It was bitter, drugged and I succumbed without a fight.

Daybreak brought more than just a new day, it brought Rylock. She was sitting on a log, watching me, looking at me as if I was a specimen in a jar awaiting experimentation. I went cold and tried to look away. I couldn't, her eyes fixed on mine like a snake, hypnotic, dangerous and compelling. Our eyes locked and I refused to back down or speak first.

She stood, pulled me up with her and pointed to the horse standing nearby. The templar who had helped me the night before, took my arm, helped me mount the horse and passed me a flask of water.

"Drink," he said, "it has nothing in it. We will not stop 'til noon and then only for a quick meal, we'll push on 'til nightfall and stop again then." He hooked the flask to my saddle and mounted his own horse. We moved out quickly, silently and with grim determination.

For four days we rode like this, as if all the demons from the Black City were chasing us, stopping only for a few minutes at noontide and then at night. Across country we went, keeping off the highways. Rylock wanted to get me back to the Tower as soon as possible. I refused to think on what would happen once we returned to Kinloch Hold. The looks she gave me frightened me badly, but I didn't reveal it. I kept my face blank and refused to be baited by her even once. I knew from experience how cruel she was. I still bear marks from that experience. A boot, a fist, shield or sword pommel, she'd used them all with some meant to mark as much as hurt. Cruelty underlined her from the inside out, I've never asked her what had happened to make her such and I don't think she would've answered me even if I had.

By day five, we could see the Tower in the distance and I thought she would keep going until we reached the dock. While we camped that last night, I couldn't sleep, not for one moment. I kept wondering what punishment awaited me this time. As a harrowed mage, I would not be made tranquil, but they would execute me if they thought I had become possessed or was a danger to other mages.

It depended on how long Irving and Greagoir, now the Knight-Commander, were prepared to put up with my antics. Tomorrow would come soon enough and all would be revealed, but I was filled with dread and felt sick to my stomach. To alleviate my worries, I spent the night watching the stars blinking above me, and watched the coming dawn, perhaps for the last time.


	5. Chapter 5

**Reflections, Realisations and Regrets**

**Chapter 5: The Prisoner Part 3**

_**AN: **Thank you to my amazing beta **Eastern Violet **for her brilliant insights and suggestions, you are the best :D Thanks to all who are now following Anders' journey it is a joy to read your reviews and comments. Just so everyone knows I'm playing with Bioware's amazing characters and it is to them they belong. Now onwards..._

The doors of Kinloch Hold never lose their sound of finality as they close with a loud, metallic ring that gives way to a soft quiet thump as they shut tight. They always look the same, never weathered, aged, grimy nor dirty, I believe they looked the same the day they were hung there.

Waiting in the main hallway were Greagoir and Irving, both looking angry yet relieved. There was also a hint of disappointment. My heart dipped, but I refused to be chastened. I glared at them, lifting my chin in defiance.

Greagoir stood stiffly with his hands behind his back as if trying to stop himself from wringing my neck. When he eventually looked at me, my heart stopped. His eyes were so cold, piercing, filled with anger and a flicker of _sadness_.

As he began to speak I flinched involuntarily, but Irving put his hand on his arm, staying his comment. "By your leave Knight-Commander, I would like to say something to Anders before you pronounce judgement upon him?" he said looking Greagoir in the eye.

Greagoir took a step back, signalling his consent to Irving and he approached, slowly and purposefully. I wanted to retreat, as dread and apprehension filled my being and I didn't understand _why_.

"Do you know what happens when you escape Anders?" Irving said, looking at me fully. "Do you know what your friends go through when you pull one of these escapades?"

I shook my head. Distantly I remembered Christie telling me something about what she and Neria had gone through the last time, but I wasn't listening, already planning my next escape.

Walking up and down in front of me he stopped, looked at me and when I shook my head, he continued.

"Your friends, the people who care about you most in the world, are interrogated not just once, but at least once _every day_. They are asked the same questions _every day_, sometimes _more than once a day_. They are segregated for the first two days and questioned without rest. They are locked in separate rooms and not allowed to associate with the others. After the first week, they are then allowed back with their peers, but they are watched, and their every move scrutinised. Their conversations are no longer private, they are no longer trusted, no longer the same, all because they are _your_ friends."

"Niall is being mentored by Senior Enchanter Torrin, and has a flare for languages, did you know that Anders? He was stopped from working on Tevinter translations for two weeks because of your behaviour. He was not allowed to work on them without supervision until today, because of _your_ behaviour Anders. You are not only destroying yourself, you are destroying your friends and their futures as well. Christie, Neria and Jowan have yet to undergo their Harrowings, they could face tranquillity all because of your behaviour. Do you understand what that means Anders?"

At this I looked up at him, my mouth open in shock, I hadn't thought, hadn't considered the consequences of my behaviour on my friends, and what they went go through each time I ran. Maker I could have destroyed all of them, Petra, Kinnon, Niall, Christie, Neria, Jowan and why, because of my need to be free.

Irving touched my arm looked me straight in the eye and saw the truth of it. The realisation of what I had done, to myself, my friends and those around me who cared. The horror dawned on me, the damage I could have done, the damage and hurt I'd already caused.

He stepped back and looked at Greagoir. "Do what you will Knight-Commander, although if you would?" Gregoir turned to look at Irving. "I would request that your anger be tempered with both justice and compassion?"

Without looking at me again, Irving walked away.

I squared my shoulders and looked at Greagoir, this time determined not to flinch when he looked back at me.

He turned slowly, as though considering Irving's words and by the time he took those two steps towards me, he had made up his mind. I stood tall and looked him square in the eye awaiting his judgement.

"I listened to what Irving said to you. I saw your reaction." He stated. "I would like to believe that you have learned something here, now, today. I would like to think that you have realised what your actions do to others as well as yourself. I would like to think that you regret your actions, but I don't know if you do Anders. I don't know if you do."

He still looked angry but he also looked older, as if he had been pursuing me himself. He blinked once, stiffened his back and said "You will receive ten lashes for theft of provisions. Afterwards you will be placed in solitary confinement for no less than six months, no more than a year. We will speak once a week and I will determine how your, _re-education_, is coming along. Think about your actions Anders, try to decide what it is you truly want for you will not get away with this again."

With that he turned and walked away, leaving me standing in the middle of the room, feeling very retched and small.


	6. Chapter 6

**Reflections, Realisations and Regrets**

**Chapter 6: The Prisoner Part 4**

_**AN:** I loved writing this Chapter and with EasternViolet's amazing help think it works much better than the original. Thank you, you're a beta with a heart, soul and have an uncanny sense of knowing what I wanted to say and showed me how :D Thanks also to those who are following and reading, your thoughts and reviews give me such joy to read, it rocks my world. We now begin Anders forced solitude, grab your popcorn and let the fun commence..._

I've been whipped before and even though I was prepared for it, it was still a shock when the treated leather connected with my bare skin. I tried not to cry out as I bit down hard on the leather strap in my mouth and looked straight ahead, trying to, but not quite succeeding in staying quiet and detached. Every stroke felt like fire, tearing a low moan out of me. I just wanted it to be over. At times like this, entering the Fade and waiting it out would've been a small mercy, however my manacles prevented this. After what felt like hours, but only minutes in reality, the templars lower me from the post and the healers examined my wounds. The attention had less to do with my injuries and more to do with the fact that I was to go straight into solitary confinement. No matter how much I'd angered Greagoir or Irving, neither of them wanted me to die of an infection brought on by the whipping.

Once healed, I was allowed a clean set of clothes and then taken down into the bowels of the Tower. I had been there before and knew what to expect; this time there was a big difference. There would be no window I would not see even a crack of daylight. I was led to a lower level and would be given a monthly candle allowance. Although imprisoned, I would also be allowed to use minor spells, those that would enable me to do simple tasks such as heat water, provide light, light kindling in the grate to name but a few. It kept my magic regenerated though not powerful enough to do any harm to those around me.

The cell was small. It had a cot, table and chair, small cupboard, fire grate, a metal bowl on a stand for washing and a line for hanging clothes. On the table were some books on healing magic and alchemy, some parchment, a bottle of ink and a quill. The cot had clean blankets, a pillow and an assortment of clothes, along with the box containing my monthly quota of candles, soap, a comb and other necessities that would have to see me through the next four weeks.

I heard a noise behind me and was surprised to see Ser Bran at the door. He looked genuinely sorry to see me here, which in turn made me squirm with shame, I wanted to hide from his steady gaze, but instead I squared my shoulders, stood straight, and waited for him to speak.

"You should have everything you need for now, the Knight-Commander has asked that we provide writing materials, and hopes that you'll keep a journal during your time here. It's as much for you as for anyone else," he said softly. "Writing down your thoughts, even random things, can keep you sane whilst being on your own. We mean you no harm Anders, I hope you come to realise that one day. We're trying to protect you, and keep you safe from those that would do you harm. Right now, I'm sorry to say, that includes you. You are your own worst enemy Anders."

"You will receive three meals a day. Your latrine will require emptying once a day, make sure it is positioned by the door each morning so we can take it, use the lid provided —you'll come to appreciate it," he advised. "You'll be allowed to bathe once a week, should you behave, and the Knight-Commander will come to see you at the end of each week to speak with you."

"Anders, think on this. I shouldn't be saying anything to you but, since the first day we met, we have always tried to be honest with each other and I think you ought to know that..." He paused as if gathering his thoughts and I remembered the first time I met him, and how kind he had been to me during our journey to the Tower and, since then as well.

"The Chantry is demanding blood, Anders. Your blood. Rylock has submitted a report to the Grand Cleric detailing your escape attempts, stating that you are a danger to the templar's authority here in Kinloch Hold. She says that should you prevail, the likelihood of an outright rebellion will increase a thousand fold. As a preventative measure, she recommends that you should be executed without delay."

Again he paused to look at me. I was dumbfounded. She hated me that much, she truly wanted me dead. She had aligned me with the Libertarians, when in truth I had not joined any of the factions. Whilst I advocated freedom for mages, I did not actively pursue it. Change would not come using violence or fear, it had to be done in stages and through education of those who feared us. However, this was not the time to be thinking about such things. I was in shock at his announcement. As I looked at him, he nodded as if reading my mind.

"Yes Anders, she really wants your death and believes the Grand Cleric should order the Knight-Commander to execute you immediately. She claims you are a danger to all those around you as well as yourself. You know as well as I that Spirit Healers are few and far between. The way you use Fade spirits to augment your powers and draw their power to assist you, well frankly, it makes the Chantry nervous. We don't understand how you do this, how you control them, but to someone like Rylock and others like her, you are dangerous, you are different, you are abhorrent."

I said nothing and tried to make sense of what he was saying to me. His words swirled around in my head, but I was stunned and totally at a loss. Ser Bran noticed my distress, stepped forward, grasped my arm and helped me sit on the edge of the bed.

"Anders, the Knight-Commander and First Enchanter have done everything they can to protect you. They believe your escapades to be hijinks, a wilfulness if you like. They think it is due to the freedom you enjoyed before coming here. They've recognised what you lost Anders, but they can't keep protecting you. Eventually you'll have to pay the ultimate price for your actions if you do nothing to learn from them now."

"Please, I beg of you, reconsider your actions." He was looking straight at me, his eyes bore into my heart, shining with an emotion I could not decipher.

"Use your time here to learn from the things you have done. Realise this my friend, your actions hurt not just you and your friends, it hurts all of us who try to help you."

With that, he stood and walked out of my new home. He never looked back and I'm sad to say, I never saw him again.

The door to my cell was shut by a faceless, unknown guard and I was given ten minutes to prepare myself and a candle before the grill in the door was closed and I was completely alone in the dark.


	7. Chapter 7

**Reflections, Realisations and Regrets**

**Chapter 7: New Beginnings Part 1**

_**AN: **A difficult chapter to write but with EasternViolet's assistance I think its come together well. Hope you like it and, as usual, your thoughts, reviews and reading will help me on my way. Thanks to Bioware for their amazing characters and for allowing me to play with them..._

"_Solitary confinement units are virtual incubators of psychoses-seeding illness in otherwise healthy inmates and exacerbating illness in those already suffering from mental infirmities."_

_Ruiz v. Johnson (2001), Human Rights Watch (2003), Ill-Equipped: U.S. Prisons and Offenders with Mental Illness 149 n. 513 (New York: Human Rights Watch)_

So began my time of solitude. To fill my days, I wrote up a timetable to keep me busy. Having no window, I couldn't tell the time and used mealtimes as a guide. The first few months went relatively well, or so I thought.

I would wake, make my bed, wash and await my first meal. After eating, I would pass back my tray and swap my latrine for a clean one. Remember this however, the faceless guards outside my door remained silent even though I tried to engage them in conversation. I ended up asking questions and answering as if they had replied. For the first few months, I only spoke with the Knight-Commander.

After the morning meal had come and gone I exercised, doing stretches and sit ups, determined to keep myself in shape as my time outside the Tower had toned my body. This I wanted to keep, and so I did what I could with what I was given. After exercising, I did my laundry and after my mid-day meal I dried it. Afterwards, I'd sit at my desk and write in my journal. Words poured from me, sometimes randomly, sometimes coherent and full of emotions that I never expected to feel again. Greagoir collected my notes at the end of each week and I never saw them again. As a result, I began duplicating the things I wished to keep for myself.

After four months, give or take, I met Mr Wiggums, a cat of indistinguishable colour and parentage. A battle-hardened tom cat through and through, he had a mangled right ear and a scar along his left flank from either a fight with another cat or a templar with a nasty sense of humour. I was hanging up my spare linen clothes when I noticed him out the corner of my eye, sitting on my bed washing his face. Watching me watching him, he tilted his head to one side as if to take my measure and upon finding me non-threatening turned in a circle twice and promptly fell asleep on my bed. For a number of weeks he did this and I found his presence strangely comforting.

The first time I tried to touch him, he growled low and menacingly, his left ear flat against his head, tail swishing from side to side, claws out ready to take my hand from my shoulder. "Hey now puss," I said in a quiet tone "I'm not gonna hurt you, here..."

I held out a piece of meat that I'd saved from my dinner the night before. He eyed me suspiciously and once curiosity got the better of him inched forward on his belly, slowly, inch by inch, bit by bit. He stopped a few inches away from my hand refusing to come any closer and in frustration I placed the morsel on my bed and backed off a couple of paces. He seized his prize and shot under the bed. Sighing I sat at my desk to write in my journal. The next thing I knew my evening meal was at the hatch—a thick broth with slightly hard bread, two pieces of fruit, a jug of water and under the napkin, a thin unopened packet.

Taking a spare bowl I poured a little of the broth into it and set it aside for my visitor. I looked at the packet wondering what it contained and who it could be from. I couldn't contain myself any longer and opened it, inside were two wafer thin cookies one with a "C" scratched onto it the other with an "N". Christie and Neria. I smiled and put them to one side to eat later.

The second bowl had cooled and, as quietly as I could, I called to my guest to come and get his dinner. There was no answer—not a sound, not a peep, neither a growl nor a purr. Getting down on my hands and knees and looked under the bed, I slowly placed the candle on the floor beside me. He wasn't there. Getting up I looked around the cell, and discovered he'd gone. How though, I would've seen him go through the hatch, so would the templar. As far as I could tell, there were no openings through which he could enter or exit the cell. Running a hand over my face I shrugged and sitting back at my desk began to eat.

It was dark when I woke, pitch black. The candle had burnt out or an unexpected breeze had extinguished it. I felt constrained. Something was sitting on me, on my chest, not overly heavy but just "there". Panic swelled and I tried to seize whatever it was. I'd heard nothing, could hear nothing, just a dark impenetrable weight on top of me, holding me down. I couldn't move, couldn't breathe, my thinking became foggy and sluggish, my mind raced then slowed. I lost myself in the darkness of my panic.

Pulling myself together, I conjured a small wisp and panic became terror when a single yellow eye looked at me, unmoving, unblinking. I felt a scream build in my chest, begging for release. Then it was gone, the weight, the eye, the darkness. The wisp, sensing my distress, grew brighter until it illuminated my cell in all its grotty glory. I fell out of the bed onto my hands and knees, lit the fire in the grate and fumbled with the box under the bed for a candle which I lit with a sigh. The cold from the floor penetrated my hands, knees and mind, slowly pulling me back from the edge of the precipice I was hovering over. I counted to ten and pulled myself to my feet, staggered to the chair and sat down before my legs gave out.

Once more out of the corner of my eye I saw a tail disappear out of the door, which was closed and locked and impenetrable and...

I woke again, cold, shivering and not at all sure what had happened. Had I dreamt the presence? Had it been a nightmare, a dream, or had it been Mr Wiggums? How did he get in, and how did he leave? I was confused, cold and for perhaps the first time in my life, totally petrified.

The candle was shining brightly from where I'd left it, but my wisp had disappeared, so I conjured a new one. Its' pure light warmed me in a way that fire couldn't. It made me feel real, protected and in control. My hands were shaking; whether from cold or shock I couldn't tell. I was scared and confused, no doubt there, but I needed to understand what was happening to me.

Who could I speak to? Who could I ask for? Should I speak to Greagoir? Should I ask for Irving? My mind whirled, the wisp blinked and I focused on its warm light, and with its limited help, I began to centre myself, grounding myself to the here and now.

I didn't see the cat for the next few days and was able to settle back into my routine. I wrote about my experience in my journal and copied it, putting it in my box beside my bed for safe keeping. I occupied my mind with trivial things, writing out spells, ones I knew by heart and others I would try at a later date, elemental spells which I believed would work as a combination array for battle mages. They would require experimentation and I would have to gain permission. Whether I got it or not, it kept my mind busy. When I got fed up of spells, I wrote out alchemical recipes, creating my own book of remedies and came up new ones. This I did for a number of days, until he returned...

I stood up and stretched my back, arms, hands and legs. I was stiff from sitting for so long in one position and I needed to relax and loosen up my sore and aching muscles. I heard the hatch open and turned to the door to see my mid-day meal pushed through the opening. I took it with a quiet "thank you" to the guard on duty, put the tray on the table. When I sat down again, I noticed movement from under my bed — a head, a body, a tail. He jumped onto my bed, curled up and fell asleep. I glanced at the hatch in the door. It was closed. I looked at the cat. He slept. Unperturbed.

The hairs on the back of my neck rose, as did the ones on my arms and various other parts of my anatomy. Trying to ignore my "visitor" I turned back to my tray and tried to concentrate on eating. Even now, in the cold light of day, I couldn't tell you what I ate, or whether I finished it. All I can remember is I needed to do something mundane, something real, so I ate, drank and ate some more.

Once I'd finished, I looked back at the bed. He was still there, awake, and watching me. He fixed that one yellow orb upon me and I couldn't look away. I trembled with trepidation and I forced myself to concentrate, to think, to keep control of myself.

"What do you want?" I stuttered, "Who are you? Where did you come from?"

As if considering my words, he tilted his head and looked at me. He rose slowly, deliberately with that easy sinuousness sedate seductiveness that all felines seem to possess. Once he finished stretching, he sat and looked at me his yellow eye glowing and bright. The other, white and murky, seemed to shimmer in its depths.

He smiled at me and said "I've been watching you for some time now Anders."

Standing suddenly the chair shot back and hit the wall with enough force to break the back... "Wha...whhaaa." I stammered, unable to formulate words. I couldn't believe that he had actually spoken to me. Cats don't talk, they purr, meow, growl but they definitely don't talk.

"Easy Anders, easy. I'm not going to hurt you. No. Not at all. That would defeat the object of my being here." he said. "I want to be your friend. You need a friend Anders. You're all alone down here, in the depths, in the dark. I could be your friend Anders. You just have to ask me and I will be your friend."

"Whooo are yoouuu..? What.. no.. how did you get in here?" I said. I fought for control. I needed to stay in control. I needed to be strong and if I didn't, I was lost.

"You have such an affinity for spirits, my friend. But they are weak, I can give you more, so much more power than they have. You would have more power than you would know what to do with. I could release you Anders, I could set you free. All you have to do is ask me to be your friend. Just ask me Anders, its easy, all you have to do is ask."

I blinked, he was offering me power, freedom, everything I ever wanted and more. I took a step forward and his grin grew bigger, and his feral eye glowed brighter.

"What would you want in return?" I asked "Surely you want more than "friendship", it seems rather one-sided to me." My mind whirled, I needed to get in control of this situation and fast. I was in danger. My magic was suppressed, I was defenceless. The last demon I'd met was in the Fade during my Harrowing and that had been under the control of the Senior Enchanters and templars. This one had turned up uninvited and totally in control of itself.

"Your friendship is all I need," he said "anything else would be a bonus, but of course we can discuss all the minor details at a later date, once we are far away from here and you are safe."

"This is so unexpected. Why me, surely there are others more suited to you, others that you can aid more easily than I?" I asked.

"You are powerful, my friend. You give freely of yourself and require nothing in return. All you want is your freedom and I, well I am in a position to grant that to you. I can give you anything you want. You could have me, I'm sure you'd find my true form to your taste, and if not, command me and I will become what or who you want. Ours will be a two-way relationship Anders, give and take from both sides. I am not like others who would use you up and throw you away."

From the corner of my eye I noticed the cell door beginning to slowly and quietly open. I needed to keep the "cat" talking, distracted and focused on me. Help was coming and I needed to gain my tormentor's trust in order to to get my rescuers in with little or no discovery.

"Show your true self to me. If we are to be friends then there should be nothing between us. You say you know me well, then let me know you too."

The cat grinned even more widely than before. It shimmered, changed shape and floated above the bed, moving towards me. I wanted to run. I wanted to hide. I wanted to scream, shout, throw fire, ice, anything to get rid of it. I stayed quiet, watching and waiting. With wide eyes, my mouth fell open as I watched the cat become a woman, beautiful, terrible and amazing to behold. Her body was shamelessly uncovered, bare from the waist up, her skin shimmering, rippling and glowing. Eyes yellow like the cat's, but beautiful, entrancing and they caught me in their glow. Her arms stretched above her head, her smile broad and inviting. Her long legs and tail shifted and shimmered.

My eyes locked in her stare. I drowned in her light and in that moment I would have given her everything, everyone. My face felt hot, my body tightened in response to her form. I was losing the battle, but I needed to win the war for my soul. I didn't think I'd manage to do it without help.

The door swung wide open and in the light that streamed through, stood First Enchanter Irving, Senior Enchanter Torrin, Greagoir and two other templars. When the two mages glanced at me, I hit the floor and crawled under the table. Fire, ice and metal hurtled through the room. I closed my eyes and ears to the fight her cries for help. Her cries became screams and her screams gave way to silence.

I huddled under the table, not breathing, not moving. I could smell burning flesh, and blood. The heat from fire and the cold from ice that laid at my feet and around my still form.

"Anders," came a soft voice. "Anders, it's all right. You're safe. You denied her. You did well."

Opening my eyes, I saw Irving and Torrin crouching in front of me. "Come on out Anders" said Torrin "We're too old to be kneeling on a stone floor, boy."

With a snort, part laugh and cry, I uncurled and crawled out from under the table, shakily getting to my feet. I wiped a hand over my eyes and let out a loud sigh, or maybe it was a sob.

"How...how did you know?" I asked weakly. "Thank you for coming, I couldn't have gotten rid of her by myself, but I still don't understand how you knew what was happening."

Greagoir came over, handing me a mug of water. "Your journal." he said. "You wrote about a cat that was coming to see you. The only cats are either in the cellars or on the upper floors. Then I read about the night visit and I realised what was happening. The demon was visiting you whilst you slept and fed off your power whilst in the Fade, learning about you, your friends, your hopes and fears."

My shoulders slumped in fatigue and tiredness swept over me. "Thank you Knight-Commander, I guess my writing saved my life."

"We've been monitoring you day and night since my last visit." he added. "Irving and Torrin agreed to stay nearby in order to aid you should the demon manifest and try and take you."

"I've told you time and again Greagoir," said Irving "solitary confinement should not be used on mages. It invites demons and other malevolent spirits not only into a mage's dreams, but manifest as a mage's desires. They slowly take over the mage, and if not caught quickly enough, the only option is death."

I looked at Irving and he continued. "In your case Anders, you wanted a friend, anyone or anything to ease your loneliness. It picked up your love of cats and used it against you. Clever, very clever, but not clever enough."

"What now?" I asked. In truth I was too tired to care. I was still in shock, still scared and yes, I was angry. They'd known and not done anything before now. The demon could've killed me or worse and here I was trying to understand all this and more. I also seemed to be failing miserably as exhaustion started to take me.

"We need to discuss this further." said Greagoir looking pointedly at Irving "And clean up this mess. We'll move you to a new cell, one floor up, I think."

With that they left. I was relocated to a new cell with a window, I was given more books, parchment and ink and also a surprise visitor.

Neria. One of my truest friends appeared at my door. At first I thought I was imagining things, her elven features were so familiar, yet so different. Her lavender eyes penetrated mine and my tears threatened to overflow. She stepped forward and grasped my hands.

"Anders." she breathed and I knew she was real.

Irving stood behind her. He nodded once and shut the door. I was shocked. What was she doing here? What was going on? She sat on the chair by the desk and I sat on the edge of the bed. We stared at each other, not knowing what to say or how to begin.

"Well now Anders," she said, "what will you do next, I wonder?"

At that, I had to laugh, to hear her speak and sound as if all I'd done was take a trip around the island. It was wonderful to have her laughing with me. Her hand touched my face, stroking the weeks' worth of beard. The touch of another human being, after being alone for so long, was an amazing feeling. I hadn't realised how much I needed it, dreamt about it and ached for it.

"I'm only allowed to shave once a week, when I am allowed to use the baths." I explained. "I'm not allowed a razor here in case I hurt myself or use it on the guard."

Tilting her head to one side she regarded me seriously and said "It suits you. Makes you look distinguished." With that, she laughed again before taking my hand in hers.

After a few minutes I gave myself a mental shake. A myriad of questions flowed through me that I needed to ask.

"Why are you here?" I asked, "What game are they playing now?"

"No games," she said softly "I need your help."

I looked at her, seeing anxiety in her eyes. Fear gripped me. "What's happened, are you in trouble?"

"No," she said, "nothing like that. I need your help with my Harrowing, well actually with my healing magic. Irving says I must improve or I'll not be allowed to undertake it. Christie and Jowan have already gone and there is no-one else I trust more than you. Niall is busy with Senior Enchanter Torrin working on some hush-hush project, whilst Kinnon and Petra are too busy with the apprentices. There is no-one else, Anders, who knows healing magic like you do. Please say you'll help me."

"Wait. Wait one minute. What do you mean Jowan and Christie have gone. Gone where?" I demanded.

"Of course you don't know." She put her hand to her mouth, looking apologetic. "I'm only allowed an hour a day with you, if you agree to this. I'll have to make this quick."

"Christie went through her Harrowing nearly a month ago and passed. We all knew she would—you would have been so proud of her Anders." She paused with a faraway look in her eyes, before continuing. "Anyway, she was caught up in a scheme of Jowan's, I don't know the whys and wherefores but, she helped him escape after he was accused of being a blood mage."

Once again, I found myself totally stunned, I'd been out of circulation for a few weeks and the world had gone mad. Jowan was a blood mage and Christie assisted in his escape. That couldn't be right. No, not at all. It had to be a trick.

I looked at Neria who nodded and said "Yes." She watched the play of my emotions cross my face. "It's true. Apparently, she helped him destroy his phylactery. Greagoir and Irving were waiting for them when they came out of the chambers. Greagoir immediately sentenced Jowan to death and Lily to the Mage's Prison, Aeonar. Christie..."

"No, no, no, wait, who's Lily?" My mind reeled, trying to take in all she was saying.

"Ah right… Lily was a Chantry initiate whom Jowan was in love with. Anyway, Jowan went crazy when the templars tried to take her. He stabbed himself in the hand and performed a blood rite. After Lily spurned him, he ran. Once Christie managed to rouse Irving, Greagoir and the templars who'd been injured, Lily surrendered herself to Greagoir and was taken to Aeonar. The Knight-Commander was totally furious and said that Christie was to be taken back to the Harrowing Chamber to be made tranquil."

My blood ran cold on hearing this. A Harrowed mage being made tranquil, this was unlawful except in the cases were a mage asked for it or had become unable to control their magics without harm to themselves or others. To have it imposed as a punishment was a fate worse than death. My head swam, and I felt faint. From a distance, I heard Neria's voice calling me.

"It's ok, Anders. Christie isn't tranquil, she was saved by Duncan. She's a Grey Warden now."


	8. Chapter 8

**Reflections, Realisations and Regrets**

**Chapter 8: New Beginnings Part 2**

_**AN:** Thanks to my wonderful beta EasternViolet for her input and advice. Thanks to all who are reading, following and lurking, I'm just made up you guys like it so much. Just so you all know BioWare owns all, I just love mucking around with it..._

She was a Grey Warden—Christie a Grey Warden. She was beautiful, wilful and talented, not to mention one of my closest friends, and one of the few women I truly respected. And now she was gone and saved from a fate worse than death, but still, gone.

Neria pressed a cup of cold water into my hands. "Drink," she said. "Please, Anders, Christie's okay."

I took small sips of the water, knowing I'd throw up if I had any more and waited for my stomach to stop roiling before speaking again.

"Why was a Grey Warden here?" I asked, more to say something than truly wanting an answer.

"Hmmm, from what I've heard there's a Blight coming," she replied. "Wynne, Uldred and another five or six senior enchanters have already left for Ostagar to assist the King's army. There's a war coming, Anders. We have to be ready in case it goes badly at Ostagar. We'll all be needed—either as healers or fighters—we'll all have a part to play. Christie just gets to play her part sooner rather than later."

"I need you here and now." she demanded, "I **need**__you, Anders. Christie's gone. Jowan's gone. I'm still here!"

The tone of her voice, her desperation, finally broke through my shock and I looked at her. This time I really saw her. Tears brimmed and fear clouded her eyes. She gripped my hands and was scared. I realized I was the only one she could turn to. Me. The one locked away, the one who they feared would taint the others with wilful selfishness. She needed **me**.

"Its okay Neria, I'll help. I'll get you through this, I promise you." I said, hugging her close, and I meant it, totally and complete. For the first time ever someone needed me and I wouldn't let her down.

The door opened and Irving stepped in, looking at me he said "Have you spoken with each other? Have you reached a decision, Anders?"

"Yes," I said, "of course I'll help Neria. If you'll allow it, First Enchanter?"

He nodded, and I'm sure I saw the ghost of a smile cross his lips. He held out his hand to Neria who walked past him into the hallway. "She will return tomorrow after the mid-day meal," he said turning to follow her. "She must be ready in the next few weeks, Anders."

And with that my time as a mentor began.

As Irving promised, Neria came every day and we worked hard. Healing isn't just thinking about a wound and it getting better. A healer needs to know how body works, and how different injuries affect it. The body is made up of a skeleton, blood system, nervous system, lymphatic system, organs both major and minor. Over the years Enchanters have had access to patients of all types and their combined knowledge contained in books and journals which are contained within the library, by the Senior Enchanters and discussed and shared at the Mages Conclaves usually held in Cumberland. A healer has to know how each system works and how they interact with each other. Only then can they heal with knowledge and accuracy. A wound is healed from the inside out. A disease is diagnosed and then treated with healing potions and magic. Everything a healer has to know and use is impossible to learn instantly; we learn throughout our lifetimes. Some healers specialise in specific areas for example poisons, diseases, and some, like me, have an affinity with healing and can heal in a way that is considered "natural" that is, without conscious thought or teaching.

To help me teach Neria, I had to request a number of books from the library. For the first two weeks we started with the basics. I coached her on the workings of the body until she could recite them in her sleep, and I'm sure she did. From there we progressed onto the blood system, muscles and major organs and how they are connected. As we progressed, her confidence grew and made the process more enjoyable for both of us. Step by step, little by little, she grasped the fundamentals and the foundations for healing. She enjoyed it as much as I did...

However, our time together was not just limited to work. We also spoke about the goings on in the Tower and each day I felt a little more connected than I had before. I began to realise that I missed the company of others, the apprentices, the newly arrived children and the senior enchanters. I missed the smells, the laughter, the dulcet tones of conversations being held in the library. I yearned to be around the groups of friends scattered throughout the Tower sharing secrets, helping each other study, planning pranks and stunts.

Every day we worked for about fifty minutes, and then would have a little time to sit and talk before she was escorted back into the Tower proper. And every day I looked forward to her return. My writings were more focused... I wrote about how I could help her make the most out of her powers and how to train her to become a better healer. I devised tricks to help her focus. I wanted her to become a better mage, I had made her and myself a promise and to this end poured all my effort into my quill.

Neria continued to come to me even after she passed her Harrowing. I was so proud of her and her achievements. I was surprised that Irving still wanted me to be her mentor, but apparently Neria was beginning to show an aptitude for healing and so we continued our time together and instead of an hour a day it was increased little by little over time to two or three hours depending on her daily schedule. We relished the time we spent together, learning, teaching and talking about life in the Circle, healing, elemental magic and about friends that I missed greatly.

As the next few months passed, Greagoir continued to come to see me once a week, and settled into a routine that I began to look forward to. Greagoir's questions were always different, especially as I now had someone else to think about. He would ask me about my mentoring, how it was progressing, how I was enjoying it, the things **I** was learning as well as Neria, where I saw myself in six months time, a year's time. It was different, refreshing thinking about the future, where and what I'd like to be. As a result of these discussions and the time I spent with Greagoir, I began to see that I could become a true mage of the Circle, I was actually enjoying myself, I was settling into a role to which I was suited and I'd like to believe that Greagoir could see the difference in me, as well..

Once again, just when I thought I had found peace within myself, the world tilted off its axis and life would never be the same again.

During my time with Neria, I heard about the battle at Ostagar and knew that things had gone awry. The King's army had been defeated. Neria heard from the returning mages that the king had been betrayed by the Grey Wardens. They had deliberately led the King and his men into a trap, and all had perished. We grieved for Christie. Our friend and confidant. As the days passed, we spent more time together and came to realise how much we missed each other as well.

I began looking forward to the day I would be released. I realised I was falling in love with my charge and she with me. Maybe this is what Irving had planned and he wanted me to find someone to ground me, to make me want to stay and to have something other than "me" to focus on. I don't know and maybe never will, but at that point in time, I would have stayed with her. I would have tried to be the mage they wanted me to be, but, like I said, the world tilted and things changed. Again.


	9. Chapter 9

**Reflections, Realisations and Regrets**

**Chapter 9: New Beginnings Part 3**

_**AN: ** Thanks once again to my amazing beta Eastern Violet who helped bring this chapter to a semblance of clarity. Thanks to all who have shown an interest, read this far and reviewed. Your comments mean so much. Bioware own all I'm just having fun..._

I don't remember what woke me, I just remember lying there, conjuring a wisp rather than lighting a candle, holding my breath, knowing, sensing, and feeling something was very _wrong_.

I heard the sound of metal feet running from my door; then, there was silence—just the sound of my breath as it came out in a rush.

Sitting up, I gripped the edge of my bed so hard my knuckles creaked from strain. Forcing myself to let go, I stood up, changed out of my night clothes without washing and walked to the door. I'm sure, even now, that I could hear screaming and the clash of metal. There was also the smell blood and fire. It was impossible to be sure given my location, but I swear it was there.

I looked up at the window; it was pitch black. There was no moon or stars. I couldn't tell if it was late at night or early in the morning. It was as if the Tower and its surroundings had been sucked into a void of nothingness. The battle with the demon in my last cell came back to me in a rush and with such force I felt physically sick. For the second time in the past few months I felt fear.

Suddenly, I heard soft footfalls down the hallway and began to back away from the door. I could tell it wasn't a templar and I became scared, really scared. I summoned my meagre amount of magic, finding it calming as it wrapped around me like a cloak. I was determined to try and defend myself if I had to. The sound of the turning lock grated on my nerves and I swallowed reflexively. It seemed to take hours, but when the door swung open, I saw Neria standing there, bloodied but alive. She was scared out of her wits, but alive. Calmly, she looked at me, still trembling from head to foot; whether from fright or shock I couldn't tell.

"Quickly," she said looking back over her shoulder. "You have to leave, leave now."

She pushed me out of the door, whilst handing me a pack which had been slung across her shoulders. Quietly, she led me down the hall and towards the stairs that led to the kitchens and laundry.

"Wait. Please Neria, you must tell me. What's happened? You're covered in Maker knows what... I don't understand, please I need to know! Oh my, wait a moment." I begged. I ran back to my cell and quickly snatched up the box containing my writings and ran back to her.

She looked at me, with tears pooling in her eyes "Oh, my love." she said "You have no idea just how powerful you really are, do you? You are a healer with such power. Why do you think you got away with so much? Others wouldn't have stood a chance, but because of what you have within you, what you command, the Circle couldn't risk losing such power. Irving didn't have much time to tell me everything Anders, but I know this, you must be protected from what is happening. To that end I have to try to get you out. Now. You've proved yourself to be so much more than you think you are as a mentor, a healer and a friend."

It was a statement not a question. I looked at her in total confusion, thinking _what in the Void __are you talking about?_ In the next breath, just as her tears began to fall, she took my hands in her own.

"Quickly, we don't have much time. It's Uldred. He's gone mad. When he returned from Ostagar he started spreading dissention through the Libertarian ranks. He says he has the backing of Teyrn Loghain. He believes that now is the time for mages to free themselves from the Chantry. I think he is leading a rebellion. He called a meeting of all the harrowed mages, but it was a trap. He's using demons, Anders. Demons. He's turning those who refuse to join him into monsters. They're hunting down everyone and anyone who stands against him. He is coming for you, Anders. For you."

With that she began to drag me towards the stairs, pulling me by the hand trying to force me to follow her, to get me to safety. Again I refused, and stopping her in her tracks said "Why me? I don't understand, Neria."

"You are one of the few who can control the spirits of the Fade, Anders." she said. "He wants that power—he needs it. Wynne is powerful also, but... I don't know if she still lives she'd been badly injured when I last saw her. Petra is with her. He needs your power and what it commands. If you won't join him willingly, he will take what he wants by force. He wants to command everything, both demons and spirits, and believes he's unstoppable, and able to free every mage throughout the whole of Thedas. All who oppose him will die. He's crazy, Anders, no-one could reason with him. He and his followers used blood magic. It was a massacre. The templars didn't stand a chance and neither did we.

Listen to me, Anders. Irving sent me, he told me to get you out before he headed back to the Harrowing chamber. He'd prepared this pack—he must have known that something was going to happen. You have to go. Now! Come on, the entrance hall is deserted. The templars are trying to hold Uldred and his minions back, but if they fail and all is lost, they will regroup there. Once that happens you'll be trapped."

With that she took my hand and we ran up the stairs.

The kitchens and laundry were deserted. The back doors leading to the vegetable gardens stood open. Hopefully, the staff were able to escape and with any luck, the templars outside having already taken them to safety and sent for reinforcements. We continued to the main entrance hall. As she had predicted, there was no-one there, but the sounds of fighting could be heard along the corridor—the sounds of children screaming, and of men and women yelling battle cries. The smell of burnt flesh and blood will always stay with me.

I stopped again, hovering with indecision, my training kicked in and my magic flared automatically. I knew there were people who needed me, but also realized that I would put them all at risk if I stayed. Neria looked at me with concern and pity in her lavender gaze.

"I know." she said grasping my upper arms and pulling me close. "There is nothing you can do except live. You must get out or everything we've done to try to stop Uldred will have been for nought."

Her hand touched my cheek and brushed away the tears from my cheeks.

"Please. You must go." she whispered.

In a few strides we arrived at the main doors and she pulled one open. The templars were gone. The boat wasn't at the dock. The air was still, as if it was waiting for the horrors of the Tower to spill out and infect everything around it. Dawn was beginning to creep over the hills surrounding the Spoiled Princess and the hazy light seemed miles away. A mist was rolling down the far embankment towards the lake as if was trying to hide the goings on at the Tower from prying eyes.

"You'll have to swim." she said, pulling me back. "The pack has been magically sealed and water-proofed. There's food, clothing and money in a hidden pocket. Stay off the main roads for the next day or so. Go north, the Darkspawn are to the south. Stay safe, and if I get out of here in one piece, I _will ___look for you."

"Come with me." I pleaded. At that moment, I realised just how much she meant to me and I didn't want to lose her. I knew I was being totally and utterly selfish, but I couldn't help saying it anyway. "Why go back? Come with me. I need you, Neria. I love you."

She paused for a fraction of a second as if battling with her own inner demons. Her eyes were shining with love and pride for me. I had said those words with meaning; they were real, total and freely given. My heart soared and felt as if it were about to burst. The feelings I had for her threatened to overflow and drown me in that instant. I reached for her and held her close, and never wanted to let her go again.

"I can't my love, I'm needed here. There are children who need me, friends who are hurt and worse. You're in danger, you have to go. I will find you again. I promise. I love you, Anders, with all my heart and soul. I always have and always will."

And with that she reached up and kissed me—the first kiss we had ever shared, the sweetest and most wanted kiss I've ever had. She stood inside the Tower, and I stood just outside. We were both on the threshold of something new. As she broke the kiss, she pushed me away and the door slammed shut.


	10. Chapter 10

**Reflections, Realisations and Regrets**

**Chapter 10: Fight or Flight**

_**AN: **Thanks to all who are following and enjoying the free ride from BioWare. Thanks also to my wonderful beta Eastern Violet. We run on with Anders into the unknown..._

Well, what can I say? Just like that I was free! I was free to do what I wanted and go where I wanted. Free! So why was I standing on the steps of the Tower, rooted to the spot, not knowing what to do or where to go? Me, Anders, escape artiste extraordinaire. I stood there at the doors of my former prison, not knowing whether to beat them down and go back inside to help or run in the opposite direction. If someone had smacked me in the face with a freshly caught trout, I doubt I would have been more stunned.

I backed away from the doors. The sounds and smells were still fresh in my mind, as I stumbled and began to fall. I came back to myself and turned and ran for the dock. From behind, I heard the sound of breaking glass and the screaming intensified before it was abruptly, cut off. I stopped, frozen in time; the sound chilled me to the bone. My heart stopped in my chest before I ran for the dock as if all Uldred's demons were chasing me. For all I knew, they probably were, and had just not caught up with me..

I didn't stop. I didn't think. I just ran. As I reached the end of the dock, I realised that there was no boat and would have to swim. Neria was right about that. Neria. My heart clenched. I jumped in and swam—not towards the opposite dock—away to the left to a derelict house.. I swam and swam, eventually reaching the shallows where I could wade to the shore. The building was still fifty yards or so away. As I stumbled forward, the pack smacked me on the back, reminding me of everyone I had left behind, the ones who ensured that I had gotten away.

_Neria, my love. Stay safe._ I prayed silently as I looked back at the Tower. There were lights shining all over the structure. The flashes from the upper floors told me that the fighting was still intense. My heart pounded and I deliberated whether I should turn around and go back. My head over-ruled my heart. I stepped over the threshold into the abandoned hut and shutting out the sight of the Tower and all it held within.

Once inside, I undressed and dried myself as best I could with some rags I found in a mouldy chest. I quickly put on the dry clothes from my pack and pulled a cloak around my shoulders. I burnt my ruined robes so as not to leave a trace of my passing and left the rotting building without looking back.

For the next two days. I followed the northern shore of the lake. There were enough provisions in the pack to feed four or more of me; starving wouldn't be an issue. However, by the third day, I needed news. I had to know if anyone had heard of what had happened at the Tower and headed for a small hamlet I had heard of, though had never visited. I hadn't shaved, so my appearance would be altered enough, should I encounter anyone that might recognise me. My luck had held out so far, but the Maker might just decide to throw Rylock at me as punishment for leaving all those I cared about behind.

After an hour's walk, I came upon the small village which was merely a collection of wooden houses, a small smithy and a tavern that doubled as a trading post. I went into the tavern and ordered a bowl of stew and an ale, sitting as close to the barkeep as I could to overhear the conversations around me. When my meal arrived, I stopped the young serving lad collected my thoughts and tried to decide how to formulate my questions so as not to appear as if I'd just fallen out of the sky.

"What news of the Darkspawn?" I asked.

"There've been the odd sightings here and there, but nothin' much has been seen as yet. We've been tellin' travellers to stay on the road and not to travel at night," he said, matter-of-factly. "We have lodgings here if you need somewhere to sleep."

I nodded and asked how much for a room. I gave him the money and followed him upstairs. It was not much bigger than the cells I'd lived in for the past year, but it was clean, the bed was fresh and it would be more comfortable than the bedroll I'd been using for the last couple of days. I thanked him, and before he took his leave, I spoke up.

"Has there been any news from Kinloch Hold?"

I held my breath whilst he looked at me silently for a couple of heartbeats. "Why?" His eyes narrowed and looked at me suspiciously. "You got kin there?"

I nodded, "Yes, my brother. He was taken when we were very young. I heard there'd been some trouble and I'm trying to learn more.. For my mother you understand, she's worried about him."

"Aye," he said sagely. "Mothers tend to do that."

He shrugged his thin shoulders and scowled. "Don't know much, but there were templars on the road yesterday. Goin' for Denerim they were, riding like the wind. Me Da says they'll be asking for the Right. People say the mages have risen up against the templars and there's been a lot of killin'. People are waitin' to see what happens. More than one family hereabouts has kin in that place."

With that he walked out and shut the door firmly behind him. My heart stopped in my chest. The Right, the Right of Annulment. If it had been called, the templars must think the Tower is lost. Neria is lost. Niall, Petra, Kinnon, the children would all be gone. No…that can't be a possibility, there must be another way. They had to be saved. But by whom? Me? I couldn't go back. Neria and Irving had done so much to save me. If I went back, their work would all have been for nought.

_I'll spend the night in the tavern and decide what to do in the morning_, I said to myself. _Things will surely look better after a good night's sleep._

That's what I kept telling myself as I tossed and turned on the recently stuffed mattress. Through the curtained window, the moon crossed the sky and chased the stars. I counted each one before I fell into a deep and blessedly dreamless sleep.

The morning shone brightly through the window, waking me with gentle rays of sunshine and the birdsong of a new day. _Yeah right. Another day, another problem and another decision to make._ Even after a good night's sleep, I couldn't decide what to do. I went through my options once again. As it stood, my friends were either already dead or would soon be if the Grand Cleric acceded to the Knight-Commander's request. She would send at least one contingent of templars to the Tower to assist with the "cleansing"—possibly two. I couldn't go back, and would have to be satisfied finding a safe place to wait to see what happened. After all, I wasn't the only one with friends or family in there.

I went downstairs to the main room, looking for something eat and found the young lad who'd helped me the night before. He turned and smiled, indicating that I should take the table I had the previous night. When I was seated, he took my food order and left a steaming mug of tea. The smell coming from the kitchen set my stomach rumbling and I realised just how much I missed these simple pleasures.

The lad returned with a plate of bacon and eggs, fresh bread and more tea. My mouth watered in anticipation and it must have shown, because he chuckled as he walked away.

"Wait, please. Is this place Grayson? What's your name?" I ventured.

"I'm Jaidan, my grandfather built Grayson," came his reply.

The look of pride on his face was a delight to behold and I pressed for more information.

"What's the nearest town from here, Jaidan?"

"Hmm, that'd be Highever to the North. Mind you, there's been trouble there and it may not be open to strangers."

My heart skipped a beat and I forced myself to take a mouthful of food to help get my thoughts in order.

"Any idea what's gone on up there?" I asked looking into plate.

"I... I'm not supposed to say nothing." He murmured and turned to leave, but not before stopping to ask "you got family there too?"

I nodded and he looked at me as if taking stock of what he saw.

"Meet me by the smithy at the tenth bell," he said. "There's someone nearby who could tell you more."

With that, he walked away. Nothing I did or said could draw him out, so I decided to not push my luck. I finished my meal and ventured over to the barkeep. I needed supplies whether I stayed here or moved on and decided to see what he had on offer and purchased some of what I needed. When I was finished, I headed outside to take a look around—I still had decisions to make and wanted to clear my head, get my bearings, and take stock.

I was pleasantly surprised. The hamlet consisted of eight well-kept wooden houses. The smithy was situated at one end and the tavern at the other. Surrounding the village, there were grain and root fields, also meticulously maintained. Behind two of the houses, skins were prepared for tanning. This meant at least two hunters providing the hamlet with much needed meat, who would also know the lay of the land. I was hoped that they might provide me with a map of the outlying area.

To the right of me was the road that ran north to Highever and south towards Kinloch Hold. To the left a river ran to the Waking Sea and south to Lake Calenhad. The land was rich and fertile. Protected by the sea, rivers and natural landmarks, the one road lead left and right as far as the eye could see, so protection wouldn't be a problem. The more I looked the more my mind raced. A plan was starting to form. Was it feasible, could it work? I'd have to get the hamlet-folk on my side, but the more I thought it through, the more I believed it could work.

The ringing of the smithy's bell cut through my thoughts. Excitement coursed through me, as I walked toward it I noticed Jaidan head to the rear of the building. I ran to catch up. As I turned the corner, I slowed down, unsure of what I would be walking into.

He was alone and asked, "You ready?"

_Ready for what? _ I thought.

He pointed towards a copse of fruit trees about a hundred yards north of where we stood. A thin line of smoke rose from the canopy. I hadn't noticed another building just beyond the trees.

The boy smiled. "It was getting dark when you arrived last night. It's hard to see it in the dark."

I frowned and looked at him closely. "Who lives there?"

"You'll see," he said enigmatically and took a little path that led into the trees and the line of smoke just beyond them. I hesitated, not knowing whether to follow him or run in the other direction. He didn't stop, certain that I would follow. My stomach fluttered uncontrollably as my need for self-preservation kicked in. I refused to acknowledge it and after giving myself a mental shake and a strict telling off for behaving like a child, I set off after him.

I followed him through the trees into a clearing behind them. The wooden one-storey structure was well built and well-kept with a small herb garden to the right and a smoking shed to the left. The door and windows were open to let in the gentle breeze coming off the inlet to the sea. It looked normal and safe. I was puzzled by my response. When I went to ask Jaidan the many questions flying round my head, I discovered that he was no longer there.


	11. Chapter 11

**Reflections, Realisations and Regrets**

**Chapter 11: Survival Part 1**

_**AN:** Thanks as always to my amazing beta Eastern Violet for her help, advice and tireless input. Thank you also to all of you who are reading, lurking, enjoying and reviewing. We now leave the game as we know it entirely for the next few chapters, where I hope to fill in gaps from my imagination as to what Anders did in the time between his escape and Awakenings. I hope you all realise that BioWare owns and I just play with their amazing characters, places and other sandpits that I may fall into …_

I looked back at the house; it looked so "normal." There were curtains in the windows as well as the smell of fresh bread, cinnamon and apple—pie! That was it— my feet seemed to move on their own accord toward the open doorway. I still didn't feel threatened, in fact, quite the opposite. I felt welcomed and something drew me in. At that point, even if I wanted to, I doubt I could have stopped myself. On reaching the door, I knocked on the framework and waited.

"Come in."

My heart stopped, the voice was familiar, soft, gentle and knowing. I hesitated, unsure of myself, yet everything seemed so "right." I was unable to stop from crossing the threshold and entering.

The room was bright and airy and the smells even stronger and my stomach rumbled in anticipation. A pot of steaming tea sat on a table in the centre of the room. The cups, saucers and plates were set out, and fresh bread, cold meats and the much anticipated apple pie sat proudly in the centre. Through another door at the back of the room, I could see a bed and another curtained window. To the right of the bedroom door were a set of steps leading to a mezzanine floor above. Whatever held there wasout of sight.

From the bedroom, I sensed movement. When I saw a figure silhouetted in the doorway, I stiffened I couldn't see who it was. The figure was lit from behind, hiding the figure's gender. I stayed still, waiting for the figure to approach. My magic was building and electricity sparkled at my fingertips, ready to protect myself should the figure become threatening.

A gentle laugh came from the figure, causing me to pause and blush in embarrassment. I wondered if I was acting paranoid when the figure said, "It's ok, I understand. I mean you no harm. You have nothing to fear from me."

"Oh." I snapped, feeling silly, "and I'm supposed to trust you on your word alone, am I?"

"No," said the voice. "You have nothing to fear from me because we are the same, boy."

The figure's hand raised slowly and opened. In the palm swirled a mini snowstorm, precisely held and mesmerising to watch. With a flick of the wrist it disappeared and the arm dropped back to the figure's side. I blinked, tried to calm my breathing, watching the last of the mini snowflakes melt into nothing, trying to think of something to say.

"Who are you?" I demanded at last.

The figure took a couple of steps into the room and I saw a woman, slightly smaller in stature than I, toned from hard work, but feminine in every way. Another step and I saw thick black hair, cut short and swept to one side. After another step, her face lit up and revealed deep blue eyes, clear tanned skin and a smile. I felt I should know this woman; she seemed so familiar. She was definitely older than me but her age was indiscernible, she could have been anything from thirty to sixty— I couldn't be sure.

She was not in the least bit embarrassed by my scrutiny, I was not surprised to find myself undergoing the same treatment. Eventually our eyes met and I had the feeling I should know her, I did know her, but for the life of me, I couldn't place her.

She continued to smile and waved her hand towards the table saying, "Please let's sit and have something to eat. We can talk at leisure whilst we do so."

She sat in the nearest chair and I followed her example, sitting opposite from her. She poured the tea and indicated a pot of honey, lemon wedges and milk which I understood to mean "help yourself."

I poured honey and a spot of milk into my tea, she cut the bread and passed some to me on a plate, which I graciously accepted and then filled mine with chicken and ham. I spread some creamy butter onto the thickly sliced bread, still warm from the oven. The simple fare was delicious, the tea just right and I was content to eat in silence, happy to just enjoy what had been offered.

She watched me as she ate. Questions started eating away at me, needing to be asked.

"Thank you for your hospitality," I began, "and I truly don't mean to be rude but, who are you?"

She smiled at me. "No offence taken. I think if I were in your shoes I'd be full of questions as well. My name is Rosalie. Before you ask, I knew your kin in Highever. I knew your mother before you were born. We grew up together."

Taking one look at my complete amazement, she laughed out loud and gently put a finger under my chin and closed my mouth. It must have fallen open at some point. I swallowed and tried not to choke when I realised that I had a mouth full of food.

"You knew my Ma and Pa?" I whispered. "You saw them in Highever? When? How long ago? Are they safe? How are Brett and Brina? Whe..."

She held up her hand laughing and said "Calm yourself, I'll answer all your questions in time. What are you called these days? I was told that when you handed yourself over to the Circle you did not give your birth name."

"No, I told them my name was Anders. It was a nickname my friends gave me when I was young. Made sense at the time and it kinda stuck. I also told them my family had died on the road and that I had heard about the trouble at the farm and went to help." I all but whispered and my heart contracted painfully in my chest as I remembered.

"That saved your family. The templars weren't able to identify you and in doing so, it gave your family time to get their affairs in order and leave before anyone could figure it out," she explained. "You saved a lot of lives that day. Never forget that. You gave up a great deal as a result. It was a totally unselfish act and you should feel proud of yourself. Your parents were devastated when you were taken, but so proud of the sacrifice you made that day. You've been missed more than you know, Anders. More than you know. "

I looked at her and realised she was being sincere and not just trying to make me feel good. Then it hit me—they'd gone and weren't in Highever any longer. Fighting back the tears of frustration, I decided to give voice to my questions. I needed to know, for good or for bad.

"If they're not in Highever, where are they? Where did they go?" I asked as tears threatened to overflow and my emotions swirled, nearly overcoming me.

Rosalie smiled at me, her eyes filled with sympathy, kindness and _pride_. "Stay yourself Anders, be calm. All will be revealed in time. I will tell you all you need to know.

"You know full well that not everyone is like the Teryn of Highever. Not every town, village or hamlet is as accepting of mages. Not all people accept mages without fear or malice. There are other villages like Grayson and others like the Teryn who are tolerant of mages and protect them. They are able to keep them safe, and nurture their gifts. They are spread all across Thedas. There are a number of towns and villages in Ferelden where mages are accepted and their gifts welcomed and used without rancour or fear.

"There are others like me who work with the Mages Collective, templars and even Chantry members to keep mages safe and transport them to villages where they will be protected and can live in peace. We are constantly working to enlighten others, to lift the fear of mages. It is a long process and enlightenment will not happen overnight. It has been going on for many years and it will be many years before we see any major changes I'm sure.

For now you need to rest, regain your strength and trust us. For _we will _protect you."

I looked at her trying to make sense of everything she had said, what that meant for me and those like _us_. She was like me, she knew my mother, my family. She knew _me_. My mind began to whirl in excitement and confusion. She smiled, knowing what was going through me,yet letting me digest it. Realisation hit me, for now at least, I was _home_.


	12. Chapter 12

**Reflections, Realisations and Regrets**

**Chapter 12: Survival Part 2**

_**AN: **Thank you to my awesome beta Eastern Violet, who somehow makes sense from madness, you rock. Thank you also to all those who have read, reviewed and lurked, I love to know you're around. We now enter the realms of maybe and what if, I hope you like..._

Enjoying a comfortable silence, we carried on eating; Rosalie poured us both another cup of tea and I helped myself to some more honey and milk. There were still many things I wanted to ask, but most of all, I had to know, _where was my family? _Trying to contain myself, I ate and drank as if I didn't have a care in the world.

Rosalie looked at me over the rim of her cup, her eyes sparkling with restrained mirth. She knew exactly what I was thinking and I wanted to reach over and shake her, perhaps even strangle her. Frustration mounting, I was growing more and more impatient. Waiting was never my strong point. I wanted her to tell me everything she knew.

After a few more minutes, she set down her cup and looked at me squarely and said, "They left Highever six months after you were taken. Your mother knew where I was and asked me to look out for you. I did what I could even though I was only able to watch and wait until today."

She held up her hand when I was about to ask more questions. I stuttered to a stop and nodded for her to continue.

"Before you ask, a member of the Tower's kitchen staff is related to one of the families here so yes, I heard about your escapes from the Circle, I knew about each and every one of them. And no, I couldn't have helped you, none of them were the _right _time, you weren't ready then."During any of your previous escapes the templars would have found you, and discovered me as well. You would have put us all in danger. We could have been sent to prison or worse-executed. We knew what was coming and nothing would stop it. It was only a matter of time, so I chose to wait. And here we are." She took another sip of her tea and watched me process the information she had just given me.

"You knew that Uldred would lead a revolt?" I breathed. I couldn't think and couldn't believe that this woman knew what was coming. Why didn't she stop it if she had the power to do so? So many lives were lost- it just didn't make sense.

With a sad expression, she watched my silent questions flit across my face. "I couldn't have done anything. Think about it. What do you think would have happened if I or a messenger had gone to the Tower to warn what was to happen?"She arched an eyebrow and tilted her head slightly, never taking her eyes from mine.

"They would have laughed in your face, had you imprisoned or thrown you out on your ear. They're the best things I can come up with." I mumbled. "I can't bear thinking about what really would have happened. I shuddered and stopped talking.

"Exactly. The templars would have killed me, they would've imprisoned any messenger and relentlessly questioned them as to who had given them the information. You know how the Chantry feels about divination...it is not allowed. It is abhorred as much as blood magic," she stated matter of factly. "To practice it is to face death without the option of Tranquillity. For me it is as natural as breathing. I cannot stop the visions when they come. Some I can act on, while others I have to wait and see what occurs."

I nodded. Foretelling the future was deemed an offence against the Maker. Only _He_ had the right to determine the future of _His _subjects. For a mage to do so was tantamount to calling themselves a god and an act punishable by death. I asked her to continue.

"I had to wait, and foresaw no other option open to me. My gift cannot be controlled, the dreams can come to me whilst asleep or awake and sometimes not as whole sequences, more like pieces of a puzzle that I then have to put together to get a proper picture.

"It had been foretold that you would arrive. That is why Jaidan offered you the room in the tavern, and why he brought you here to see me. Everyone in the hamlet has lost someone, and in some cases, more than one to the Tower. Those of us who remain are aware of their sacrifices. We had to make sure that there were others left to help those that needed it, especially those who are able make a difference. You are special Anders, I knew it the day you were born and so did your Mother. Your sister is as well, but your Mother refused to leave her with us. So we waited and now, here you are.

"So as I was saying, they left six months after you were taken to the Tower. Something was extinguished inside of them when they lost you... I have some things for you."

She went into the room behind her and returned a few moments later with an oilskin tied with a faded red ribbon. She placed it next to me and watched as I untied the bindings and carefully opened the wrapping. Inside were a number of objects. The first was a hand-embroidered pillow. Beautifully rendered trees and birds covered one side, cats and kittens embellished the other. Carefully, I picked it up, afraid it would disintegrate under my touch. I could smell _my mother_. Her scent was concentrated in that pillow, a combination of lavender, cinnamon and oleander that immediately transported me back to childhood. In that moment, I was sitting on her knee whilst she rocked me to sleep, at the table learning my letters and numbers. The smell reminded me of so many things lost and so many memories found. Tears I didn't expect began to fall. I didn't bother to wipe them away.

Beneath the pillow were two small carvings of wolf cubs at play: Brina and Brett, my brother and sister. They were rich with detail and I knew my father had crafted them. Once again, the smells assailed me and reminded me of him: freshly cut wood and sandalwood oil. I continued to weep and Rosalie passed me a handkerchief to wipe my face and nose. The last item in the package was a picture drawn by Brina and Brett on aged parchment, of our family. It was not hard to see who was who and they had written words of love, encouragement and remembrance. Try as I might, I couldn't read them. My tears blurred my vision.

I heard the scrape of a chair and then strong arms surrounded me, holding me close.  
Next to my ear, she spoke quiet words meant to soothe and calm and a soft hand stroked the back my head as a gesture of comfort and love. Rosalie let me cry, knowing that my grief was long overdue and in need of release. I was grateful for that, she neither mocked nor tried to assuage me with meaningless platitudes. She let me gather courage from her strength and she patiently waited until the storm passed.

I don't know how long we sat there, but the sun wasn't as bright when I managed to stop crying. She released me gently and without a word went back to her chair. She tested her cup, tutted, walked over to the kettle and began making a fresh pot of tea.

As I sorted myself out, Rosalie didn't ask questions, didn't push. She was prepared to wait and let me catch up with myself. With a nod, she indicated an open door at the back of the room. I walked through to find a small bath and latrine just off what appeared to be Rosalie's bedroom. There was a small basin on a dresser with a pitcher of water, soap and a clean towel. Gratefully, I used this to wash my face and pulled myself together.

Once refreshed, I returned to the main parlour. When she sat back at the table, I was feeling calmer and could even look at the gifts without having my eyes fill with tears. I read what my siblings had written and smiled like a loon at their words of love for me. I traced the words with my fingers, so enthralled by the letters as if it were an ancient text written in some obscure language that only I could decipher.

Rosalie handed me a fresh cup filled with tea and smiled at me. I returned the courtesy and and thanked her for her patience. With a wave of her hand she said, "It's okay. I would have been more worried if you hadn't reacted at all."

I began putting my gifts back into the oilskin wrapping and closed it all up again. I drank my tea before asking my next question. "Do you know where they are now?"

"I know where they are, but that can wait for now," she advised. "There are more important things you must consider before tracing your family. These are dangerous times and there are things about to happen that will affect you greatly. What you do now will affect the rest of your life and once your path is set there will be no going back."

I was completely puzzled by this. "What do you mean? What decisions must I make now? How will they affect the rest of my life?" I demanded.

"First, there is a war coming, Anders and you will be needed to help those who can't help themselves," she stated. "We need you here, Anders, we need you to help us deal with what is to come."

She put into words what had hit me earlier that day. If this was a true Blight, then there would be refugees coming up from the south. They would need a place of sanctuary and we could provide it here. There were crops in the ground, fruit on the trees, and game in the woods, enough to feed a veritable army should the need arise.

"You understand!" she declared. "There is a great deal to do and much to prepare for. There will be many on the road who will need help, a place to stay and will have nothing. We have to be prepared and, show them how to help themselves and each other.

"We watched you walking around the hamlet this morning and I knew you saw what could be done here. We are protected on all sides, and with the right defences in place, we could be quite self-sufficient and defend ourselves should the need arise."

"We need to build more dwellings, possibly ready an infirmary for those too ill to be with their families or kin," I said. "We need to build up supplies of food, medicines, poultices, healing and mana potions. We don't have a great deal of time. Do we have skilled fighters here? I know there are hunters, but protection will be needed in a number of forms."

"We have sent for our kin and they will arrive in a few days. Then we'll gather and discuss what needs to be done to provide protection for the village. With regard to medical needs, we should start preparing those in the morning. In the meantime I'll let the others know that you have decided to stay. You have decided to stay and help, haven't you?" she queried, looking at me intently.

I nodded and smiled, "Yes Rosalie, I'll stay. I had been thinking along these lines this very morning. However, I'll have to return to the tavern to make sure my room hasn't been given to someone else..."

"Don't bother, I'll make arrangements to send your belongings here. There is a bedroom on the mezzanine floor that you can use and you are welcome to stay with me for as long as you wish."

And just like that, the decision was made. I had a new purpose, a new reason for living, and a new family. The hamlet was close enough to the Tower to keep an eye on events there. However temporary my stay, I was needed here, and determined to help whoever that needed it.

I was also convinced that Rosalie had a great deal more to say, that there was more to come and if I was patient enough, she would reveal it all in time. I believed that as I got to know her better she would reveal the whereabouts of my lost family.


	13. Chapter 13

**Reflections, Realisations and Regrets**

**Chapter 13: Survival Part 4**

_**AN: **Many thanks to Eastern Violet as usual for her insight and advice, you are an inspiration truly. Thank you too to all those who are following, reading and leaving comments, your thoughts and ideas are the grist to my mill. This is BioWares stage, I'm grateful for the opportunity to play with it. Now onward with Anders and Co..._

We began building our defences against the darkspawn and anything else that the Maker decided to throw at us. Together we built new dwellings and a long single-storey building that would become our infirmary. Rosalie and I made batches of health and mana potions and stored them in cellars beneath her house to keep them safe. I didn't ask her where she had procured her supplies of lyrium and elfroot and she didn't tell me. We made an endless supply of poultices for a wide variety of injuries and stored them in cellars around the village. The fields were tended, the orchards harvested, and the hunters went out daily to check traps and returned with their catches to be smoked and stored when they were needed. Those that could fish did the same, and soon our stores were filled to over-flowing. We were ready for whatever came at us.

New family members started to arrive, bringing weapons and armour ˗̶ both enchanted and unenchanted. One brought newly crafted staves from Orzammar; Rosalie and I each chose one. They were completely different in their magics and aligned to our respective styles of fighting. Mine was fashioned of oak, fitted at one end with a large, aquamarine crystal which focused my healing power and was etched with beautiful runes along the shaft. At the other end was a blade of steel, eight to ten inches in length and deadly sharp. Rosalie's was made of willow, fitted with a ruby, and also decorated with runes along its shaft. It also had a blade at the other end which was thin and curved, but again as sharp as a scalpel.

I'd never learned to fight properly while at the Tower, and began taking lessons from one of the fighters in the village who was well versed in staff fighting. More often than not, I ended the day covered in bruises and aching in places I didn't think possible, but after a week or so, I began to feel pleased with the results of my day's labours and became more and more confident in my fighting style.

After a few weeks of hard work and preparation, the first of the refugees were seen on the roads, heading up from the south and more surprisingly, from the east. This surprised us, but we had no time to think about why. We had to deal with their eventual destination and how they would get there, or what they would do if they decided to stay with us. Some only needed a good night's sleep, a decent meal and supplies so they were prepared to move on to the ports at Highever, Amaranthine or Denerim where they would try to secure passage to Kirkwall, Orlais or even Antiva.

Others wanted no more than to curl up in a bed and sleep before even thinking about what was to come next. They would inevitably stay with us and help where needed and became an integral part of our growing community. Payment, although welcome was not essential, as we were trying to help those in need rather than the other way around. Those that could pay did, those that had nothing inevitably left with more than they had arrived with.

After a few weeks, we noticed a change in the kind of refugee arriving at our door. These new groups were families with one or more person injured, either by the darkspawn or opportunistic bandits preying on those unfortunates trying to outrun the horde. There were more of the latter than the former, I was sorry to see.

I had a hard time understanding why these bandits would feed off the misery of those who were suffering just as much, if not more, than they were. It just didn't make sense to me at all. After a while, seeing the injuries that had been inflicted on a number of these people, I began to feel an anger at this injustice. More than one young woman came to us defiled and abused, in such awful states and damaged in more ways than one. Rosalie often tended to these young women. Those who had already suffered through the same violence lent a hand as well.

We began hearing news of the Wardens. There were snippets of stories that brought me relief to learn that Christie had survived. More often than not, they evoked memories of Neria, of her lavender eyes, raven hair. Thinking of Christie always made me think of the beautiful elven woman who held my heart.

We learned that Christie had been to the Tower, a few days after I had escaped. She had stopped the Right of Annulment and rescued those that had survived Uldred's reign of madness. She had eventually left with Wynne to parts unknown.

Rosalie would often look at me when news of the Wardens and the Tower filtered through the village, wondering whether I would disappear into the night to find them. I didn't. I'd made a promise that I intended to keep. I couldn't do anything to help the Wardens and I didn't know if Neria had survived, and wouldn't know unless the Wardens turned up on our doorstep.

I'd often been told "be careful what you wish for" and it came to pass sooner than I had thought.

Rosalie and I were in the infirmary treating a family who had fallen foul to bandits just south of Grayson. There was a chance we'd lose the father. The mother, her two sons and a young girl of no more than fourteen summers were all in a bad way. The Mother and daughter had been badly abused and beaten, the boys were used similarly and whipped until their skin had shredded.

I was working on one of the boys, no older than sixteen and in an horrific state. I was tiring and downing lyrium by the minute, trying to sustain my powers and was fast becoming lyrium addled when a hand touched my shoulder. A voice I knew as well as my own said "Stop Anders, let us take over".

Shocked I spun round to find Christie, Wynne and another woman with jet black hair and eyes amber like a a cat's.

"You'll catch flies if you stand like that for much longer," came the singsong voice. A finger gently pushed my chin and my mouth shut.

"What in Andraste's flaming knickers are you doing here?" I replied, blinking rapidly as if she would disappear in a puff of smoke.

"We'd heard about Grayson and its famed hospitality so decided to come and partake in some of the home comforts that we may find before making for Redcliffe," Christie said smiling at me. "If there's no room at the inn then we can set up camp beside the river."

Rosalie stood beside me and said, "No need, there is an empty home next to the tavern that we keep free for travellers who may need a place to stay. You and your friends are welcome to use it for as long as you need."

Christie smiled and said "Thank you. I'm Christie Amell, Grey Warden and harrowed mage, this is Wynne, a Senior Enchanter from the Tower, Morrigan an apostate from the Korcari Wilds . Outside you'll find Alistair, my fellow warden, Sten, a qunari warrior, Leliana, a Chantry lay-sister, Oghren, a warrior from Orzammar and Zevran, my own personal assassin."

At that I raised an eyebrow and looked at her as if she'd suddenly grown horns. She laughed and said "I'll explain all later, but you and your friend look like you could do with some rest. Let Wynne, Morrigan and I take over for now. We'll come and find you if we should need to be relieved, or if more injured arrive."

I looked at Rosalie, realising that she looked as tired as I felt. I think I could have slept for a month.

"Thank you Christie." I said taking Rosalie's arm. "I'm sorry, I haven't introduced you, this is Rosalie a fellow mage and yes you're right we could do with the rest. The ladies here will get you anything you need. Send for us should you need to..."

"Go." she said firmly. "We'll be fine. I know you have questions but we'll talk in the morning once you've rested. I know my way round a field hospital and I'm sure everyone will pitch in should they need to."

And with that Christie, my old mentor Wynne and Christie's little band of merry men and women breezed back into my life and relieved us of the weight of the world.


	14. Chapter 14

**Reflections, Realisations and Regrets**

**Chapter 15: Friends and Lovers Part 1**

_**AN: **As always my thanks and appreciation to my beta Eastern Violet, also to all those who are following, reading, reviewing and sharing with me. I am so happy that you are enjoying out adventure with Anders. Bioware owns him, but we can play with him to our heart's content..._

Rosalie and I staggered out of the infirmary and into the group outside. A tall blonde man in heavy armour stood to the left of the doorway and approached.

"I'm Alistair," he said. "I take it that Christie and the others are helping inside."

"Yes," I said. "I'm Anders and this is Rosalie. Christie mentioned there were more of you outside. We have a hut available for you if you don't want to use the tavern. It's still open and serving hot meals if you need to eat. They are open nigh on twenty-four hours a day with the amount of traffic on the road."

He nodded, "Yes, we heard about Grayson from other travellers on the road. We also took care of your bandit problem."

A red-headed young woman, who I took to be Leliana said. "They were rather unfriendly. They demanded money and threatened use of certain parts of my anatomy that are definitely not for sale."

Alistair laughed. "They won't be a problem. We'd heard about what they were doing to refugees and we decided to make them an offer they decided to refuse."

A golden-haired elf laughed at that and added "Yes, we begrudgingly helped them to meet their Maker as they'd offered us the same courtesy."

"Thank you," said Rosalie. "They have caused a lot of heartache to many, in fact your friends are treating a few that were not as lucky as you. Hopefully they will survive, now that we have reinforcements. We'll show you to the hut, it's on our way."

We walked up the main street, flanked by our guard of honour and showed them to a roomy dwelling next to the tavern. It was single storey, but had a number of bedrooms and plenty of beds, a parlour, kitchen and a private latrine area.

The group "oohed" and "aahed" when they saw their accommodations and immediately began making themselves at home.

Taking Alistair to one side, I said, "If you ask nicely, Braiden, the bar-keep, will send food round to you. Jaiden and Kaiden, his sons, are biddable enough and for a couple of coppers will run errands."

"Thank you, Anders, this is paradise compared to some places we've had to put up with." he replied. "We wont take liberties, though. Thank you for the offer. You'd better get yourselves to your beds. We can talk more tomorrow."

I smiled at the young Warden and with my arm around Rosalie to support her, we returned to her dwelling. We ate some of the stew that continually simmered on the stove with some slightly stale bread and a mug of ale. After our bellies were full, we stumbled into our respective beds and immediately fell asleep.

I awoke to the sound of low voices, laughter and the smell of baking bread, bacon, eggs, mushrooms and tomatoes. I staggered out of bed and leaned on the railing that surrounded the mezzanine, to see Christie and her merry band at the table in the parlour. Rosalie looked bright as a button, issuing orders like a military commander, just not as noisily.

"Well, thank you for the early morning alarm call." I said laughing. "The smell is amazing. Give me a few minutes to wash and dress. I'll be right down."

"Would you like a hand with that?" asked the blonde haired elf with a glint in his eye.

"Oyyyy!" said Christie playfully swatting at him laughing.

"Ah my beautiful Warden, I made the offer in the hope that you would wish to help as well." he said, leering at her lustfully.

Alistair groaned and Wynne went as red as one of the juicy apples in the bowl on the parlour table.

"Thank you for the offer, but I'm spoken for, as are you by the looks of it." I said laughing.

I went to my dresser and pulled out clean smalls, a shirt and breeches, and quickly washed, relishing the cold water against my skin. Although it was autumn, it was still very warm; whether this was due to the Blight or just a belated summer spurt was anyone's guess. I had a little bit of stubble, but put off shaving till later. I dressed and went downstairs to join the others.

Two tables had been pulled together and a number of chairs were brought in from the tavern so everyone could sit together. There were dishes of scrambled eggs, bacon, newly picked mushrooms, tomatoes, freshly baked bread and thick creamy butter. There were pots of tea, honey and jugs of milk. My stomach rumbled in anticipation followed in quick succession by Christie's and then Alistair's. Everyone laughed and tucked in to the feast before us.

I sat nearest to Christie and Alistair, with Rosalie on my right. Wynne was across from me with the elf, Zevran, Zev to his friends. The red haired woman sat next to him, and the others took up space down the tables. There was a great deal of banter and I found it difficult to keep up. It reminded me of breakfast at the Tower: a cacophony of voices, sounds, laughter, giggles, grumbling and good natured ribbing. I smiled to myself and startled when I felt a hand take mine.

"You okay?" asked Christie, looking concerned.

"Yes." I grinned. "Memories. You know how it is."

"Yeah, I remember," she said nudging me with her shoulder. "I'm glad I found you. A certain person is going to be very happy."

She waggled her eyebrows suggestively and I stared back, not understanding her meaning.

I shrugged. "What do you mean?"

"Oh good grief, Anders!" she said with a laugh. "Okay I'll give you a couple of clues. Number one, female. Number two, raven haired. Number three, lavender eyes. Number four..."

"Neria." I said quietly. Although I'd wanted to ask Christie about Neria as soon as I'd seen her, I had dreaded doing so, I'd been so scared in case she had been killed. I didn't think I could've survived without her in the world waiting for me. My relief was numbing in its intensity as I whispered. "She survived. She's alive, is she okay?"

"Yes, very much alive," she said. "She told me what happened and how you got away. I spoke to Irving and he asked me to tell you that they are passing you off as killed in the Tower by Uldred."

I looked at her, puzzled. "My phylactery will deny that though, surely?"

"They can sometime show a false positive, especially with more powerful mages," she said. "It has happened a couple of times. Irving hopes that it will give us time to help you get away once the Blight is over."

"What about Neria?" I asked. "I won't leave Ferelden without her. I left her once and I won't leave her again."

"Don't worry, it's all in hand," said Christie. "Just keep doing what you're doing and stay out of trouble. No one's looking for you yet. There are more important things to think about than a couple of malfunctioning phylacteries."

"A couple, what do you mean?" I asked, becoming rather perplexed.

"Well there's you and Jowan as well," she said.

I nearly choked. "Jowan's alive? Where is he? I'll kill him myself," I bit out angrily.

Christie laughed. "It's okay Anders. I knew what I was getting into and I don't blame Jowan. And before you say anything, yes, I had an inkling that he was practising blood magic. Uldred apprenticed Jowan for quite some time before leaving for Ostagar with the other mages, so it came as no surprise when Jowan performed a blood rite to try to save Lily. He was always so unsure of himself when using elemental magic, he went with what he knew and could do well. He's now at Redcliffe, with Arl Eamon. I conscripted him, and he'll be travelling with us. It was the only thing I could do to save his life. Not everyone's happy as you can imagine, but hey, everyone deserves a chance... don't you agree?"

I looked at her and realised that she'd grown in more ways than one. She'd become very good at reading people, and was good at playing up the positive whilst downplaying the bad. I couldn't help but be proud of her. Jowan had always lacked self-confidence and no matter how we tried to help him, he always regarded himself with contempt. I knew a little bit about how he came to the Tower. His mother thought he was a monster. He wasn't, none of us are, but we can become monsters if not schooled properly.

I smiled at her and said, "I'm glad. He was always so unsure of himself."

"He still is somewhat, but he's getting better. He's made me a promise not to use blood magic unless absolutely necessary, and to that end, Wynne gave him a quick master class in healing techniques before we left for Orzammar. Hopefully, he'll practise those lessons as well as the elemental ones that I taught him. He's also getting quite good at using two swords."

I did a double-take."What? Wait swords... as in steel, sharp, pointed swords?"

Again her laughter washed over me in waves. "It's a battlemage technique I found whilst wandering the Brecilian Forest. Jowan needs to find something he's good at and incorporate that with what he can learn. He channels his magic through the weapons we found in an elven ruin while we were helping the Dalish. They're runed and imbued with some heavy duty magic of their own. We believe that they were specifically designed for mages so whilst I was in Orzammar, I had some more made. I'll show you after we've eaten."

I nodded and thought about how I helped Neria, remembering the notes I'd made back at the Tower that were still in my pack My notes on elemental arrays were still in there, and I'd not had the chance to try them out. I mentioned this to Christie, explaining that they were combination spells, meant to cause maximum damage to enemies, whilst not draining mages of too much mana. They were also focused and helped to reduce friendly fire. This piqued Christie's interest, so we decided that after we'd eaten we'd go down to the beach and practice. I also wanted to show her my new staff and see if she liked it. It was so different from what we were given at the Tower. Like Zevran, she had worn dual swords, and I wondered how easy the battlemage techniques she was going to show me were to learn. I'd just about mastered my new staff fighting techniques, and was quite willing to try something new. Even from the weapons' rack by the door, her weapon's power was disconcerting; combining combat with magic would be quite formidable.

For now though, I was content, everything else could wait until later. I had Rosalie on one side and Christie on my other, even if it was only for a few days. That was enough for now, and to know that Neria was alive and steps were being made to reunite us, made me a happy man.


	15. Chapter 15

**Reflections, Realisations and Regrets**

**Chapter 15: Friends and Lovers Part 2**

There was so much discussion that first morning, that I found myself ignoring the content of the discussion., I was watching what was going on around me, content just being able to listen to the drone of voices, a feeling so familiar to me. I didn't realise that I was grinning like an idiot until I felt an elbow make contact with my ribs.

"A copper for them," said Christie.

"Nothing," I said. "I'm just relishing having you here with me."

She nodded and smiled warmly. "I understand. I'm happy you're okay too, I was worried that the rumours I'd heard were false and that we'd find a dead end. I'm so happy that I can give Neria the good news."

I found myself blushing like a child and her chuckled response made it even worse.

"Our relationship came out of the blue. I was mentoring her. We... just happened. We didn't say anything until I was leaving, but at that point I felt as if I'd missed my chance. I didn't know she was alive until you told me. I felt in my heart she was, and I dreamt that she was, but now I know for sure. Now I can hope, dream and maybe even plan for the future." I found myself gushing.

She smiled once more and said "Neria feels the same, Anders. She was so worried about you, knew you couldn't write, or get anyone else to write as she had no family left, as you know. She felt you too and knew you'd gotten away, that you were safe."

She grinned back at me. I looked down at my plate, wishing the eggs would swallow me whole or let me drown quietly. I felt my face glowing with embarrassment and Alistair patted me on the back in a show of comradeship.

"She's brilliant at that isn't she?" He said sympathetically. "Really knows how to make a man wish he was in a different country."

It didn't really bother me. Hearing her words made it more _real_ and filled me with hope. For the first time in a long time, I could begin to plan for a better future with the help of friends and loved ones.

Christie took my hand. "We're leaving for Redcliffe from here, then it'll be on to Denerim and the Landsmeet. Stay here. Things will get pretty hairy for the next few months. Once the Archdemon's dead, I'll go to Kinloch Hold, collect Neria and then come for you. We'll decide what to do after that. Maybe we'll head to Soldier's Peak or maybe somewhere warm and inviting. Maker knows I could do with a holiday."

"You do know there are other settlements like this one all over Thedas." I said to Christie. "Maybe there's one with our name on it. Somewhere to call home and put down roots. Somewhere safe, where we can do good and just be _us_."

It was a dream we all shared, Neria too. The thought of her made my heart trip over itself. Maybe one day we would have a similar freedom that we had found here; a place to call home, a place to just _be_.

My thoughts turned to those we'd lost–Niall especially, who'd died trying to save the Tower, who'd managed to save Christie and her comrades, Irving and so many others. As we remembered, we smiled at each other as we remembered the bad times, but there were also good memories. We would save those for another day, another time and we would celebrate his life rather than his death.

"When do you leave?" I asked Christie, keenly feeling her absence even before she'd left.

"Tomorrow. We've tarried enough," she replied. A corresponding snort came from the giant at the end of the table. I glanced at him and he scowled back.

Christie laughed. "Sten acts as our timepiece, constantly telling me that what we're doing is folly and we should be chasing down the Archdemon and not traipsing around the countryside on wild goose chases."

I glanced at him again and for one instant I'm sure I could see a flash of pride race across his features before they settled back into a frown. Christie just grinned at him not minding his look in the slightest.

"He loves me really," she whispered. "You just have to know what to look for."

I nearly choked trying not to laugh at the thought, and decided to concentrate on my meal rather than trying to look for the look of love on the giant's grim face.

The day passed quickly. Christie, Wynne and Morrigan assisted Rosalie and I in the infirmary and then in the kitchens where we made potions and poultices. We ate under the trees in the orchard at noontide, sharing stories and tales of daring do. That afternoon after our practice session on the beach, I helped Christie stock up on items they needed and picked up armour that had been crafted at the smithy.

Christie's eyes shone with happiness at her new armour. Designed specifically for a mage, it was light, practical and imbued with runes and magic. I was amazed at its weight and the beauty of its craftsmanship. The material felt unfamiliar.

"It's dragon wing," said Christie. "It's as light as air yet impervious to fire and to normal blades. I've commissioned suits for you, Neria and Jowan. They are wonderful to wear and I designed them with the help of Master Wade in Denerim. Unfortunately, there wasn't enough time for him to make them all. Rosalie said your smiths were magicians and so they are. The set has turned out to be even more beautiful than I thought."

"There is dragon scale and dragon bone also, and I've asked for suits of armour to be made for Alistair and Sten as well as lightweight sets for Zevran and Leliana."

"What about Wynne?" I queried.

"Ah, Wynne's robes are already made of dragon wing. I thought you'd noticed."

"No." I replied and looked at Wynne's robes with interest. They were indeed not the standard Senior Enchanter's garb as the material seemed to move with a life of its own. The colour of the robes dark red one moment, black the next and deep blue after that. It was mesmerising to watch and she smiled at me when as she caught me staring.

"I see you have noticed my wonderful gift," she said, "Like Christie's suit, it is impervious to fire and blades. It's been imbued with magic and runes to augment elemental magic."

I blinked, as that was a surprise. "Elemental? Why not healing?"

She coloured slightly, but Christie interrupted. "We decided to augment the elemental side of Wynne's repertoire as healing is Wynne's strongest asset. To increase her elemental magics seemed to be more... practical."

I had the strong impression that something wasn't right, I wasn't being told the whole story here and looked at Christie pointedly. She turned away, choosing to ignore my unspoken question and I had to let it go rather than cause a scene. Wynne was decidedly embarrassed and shrugged before walking away.

Once Wynne was out of earshot I took hold of Christie's arm, to stop her from walking away from me.

"Okay, out with it!" I demanded. "What aren't you telling me?"

She looked at me for a second before looking towards Rosalie's house. Realising she didn't want to be overheard we continued walking down the path towards the house. The shadows from the overhead trees made it difficult to read her thoughts. After a few long moments she stopped, and once satisfied that we were alone looked at me warily. I was stunned. Why was she looking at me like that? What on earth was going on? We were close friends, there was no need to look at me with such mistrust. None of this made sense, at all!

"If I tell you, you have to promise that it stays between us," she said. "Wynne may talk to you about it if she so wishes, but, under no circumstances, are you to approach her directly, nor will you be able to talk to anyone else, except me. Do you understand?" she demanded. "I will tell Wynne I've told you, but only if you agree to my conditions."

Her eyes were steely in their resolve, her face was hard and uncompromising, and I realised that whatever this was about it was serious and once I'd given my promise there would be no going back. If I agreed, then I would be beholden to her conditions. This was a secret of some magnitude and I would be bound by my promise to both her and Wynne. With trepidation, I made my decision.

"Very well, I agree to your terms." I meant every word.

She nodded and then, without missing a beat said, "Wynne's been possessed by a Fade Spirit."


	16. Chapter 16

**Reflections, Realisations and Regrets**

**Chapter 16: Possession is 9/10ths of the Law: Part 1**

_**AN: **Apologies for missing off the disclaimer on Chapter 15... My head sometimes doesn't work with the rest of me :) _

_As always my thanks and appreciation to my beta Eastern Violet, also to all those who are following, reading, reviewing and sharing with me. I am so happy that you are enjoying out adventure with Anders. Bioware owns him, but we can play with him to our heart's content..._

"...possessed by a Fade Spirit."

The words seemed to come from miles away and swirled around my mind in ever decreasing circles. Just when I thought I understood the meaning, they slipped through my fingers and flew off in all directions. The colour drained from my face and my hands went cold. Wynne, of all the mages I knew, Wynne had been possessed by a fade spirit.

I felt the slap, the sting to my cheek. My eyes watered furiously and I refocused on the small woman standing in front of me. Her eyes were hard with anger but there was also worry within the deep green depths that reached me and brought me back with a slap.

"Ooowwww!" I whined. "That hurt."

"Good," came the terse reply. "You deserved it."

"Whadya mean? What did I do to deserve that? In fact why... why are you defending her? Wynne! For the Maker's sake Christie don't you remember what she used to say to us? Don't you remember how she would preach about the dangers of the Fade. Possession, becoming abominations, deserving to die. The templars, watching, always watching. How many others died because they were thought of being too weak? How many others did she turn her back on!"

I was shouting at her in my fury. How could she defend Wynne? I didn't understand.

"Stop this, don't pass judgement before knowing the whole story. That's not you Anders. I'm sorry to strike you, but you were in shock. Look, we need to talk about this. Calmly. Quietly. Come," she said softly.

I blinked, once, twice and my eyes and head cleared. I took a deep breath and let Christie take my hand and lead me to a fallen log where we sat down. She took my hands in hers and taking a deep breath said, "Did you know that Wynne had been hurt during the rebellion at the Tower?"

"Of course I do, Neria said it was one of the reasons why Uldred wanted me, he thought she was dead and wanted my power. Irving urged her to get me out as soon as possible. She didn't know if Wynne had survived or not. Wynne had been badly injured and Petra had stayed with her whilst Neria came to get me." I said remembering that day with sadness and loss.

Christie nodded "That's right. Well... Wynne died, Anders, but her Fade Spirit is a spirit of compassion and realised that it was not Wynne's time. It saved her by giving itself to her."

She looked at me as I mulled over her words. "So how does it work then?" I asked, after a long pause. Questions were begging to be asked, but shock stayed me. I didn't want to push my luck with Christie.

"I'm not really sure..." she said, tilting her head to one side as she thought about how to answer me. "All I know is that Wynne is Wynne, the spirit augments her when we really need it, but in doing so it takes something away from them both. It's like the cork in a bottle. When the cork is in place it stops the passing of fluid and therefore there's plenty left for later. Once the cork is removed, fluid is lost and can't be replaced and when the cork is put back it stops the flow but the fluid is still missing, there is less than there was before. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

"You mean the more the spirit is used, the less time Wynne has left?" I asked.

"Yes that's it, except we don't know how much time there was to begin with. Sometimes the spirit is able to rejuvenate itself_, _but at other times it seems unable and they are both left in a weakened state that only rest and recuperation can cure."

I looked at her and nodded "That makes sense, they are basically feeding off each other. What sustains one sustains the other, what hurts or drains one does the same to the other. It's a question of finding a balance and using their strengths to offset their weaknesses. Unfortunately it will be a matter of trial and error to find what works and what doesn't."

Christie looked at me grinning with relief. "I knew you'd see it for what it was. Its a good thing, not a bad, and the benefits of their union far outweigh the downsides. We've still got Wynne, she's just new and improved."

I looked at her and we both burst out laughing. The birds in the trees took off as one, startled by the noise and that made us laugh all the harder.

"You're not worried that the templars will find out?" I stammered through the laughter once I had some sort of control.

"I'm not gonna tell them. Wynne's not gonna. You gonna write and tell?" she said hiccuping through the laughter.

"Of course not!" I said, hurt that she thought I would.

"I'm joking Anders. I didn't think you would," she chortled. "I'll tell her I told you. She may speak to you more about it. You have your own spirits in the Fade as well. You two are more alike than you realise.

You are both lucky. You're spirit healers with a direct connection to beings that assist and sustain you in a way we mere mortal mages can only dream of. You don't have to be afraid of that connection because they are there to help you not taunt or tempt you with promises that can't be fulfilled. I do envy you both." She looked at me wistfully and I could see she meant every word.

Wynne and I were different from other mages. We had connections in the Fade that other mages didn't have. We had the help of spirits to assist us in our healing, to sustain and support us, which meant we didn't have to rely on lyrium nearly as much as other mages. For elemental spells then, yes, we had to use lyrium as we couldn't use our spirit helpers with those types of spells. I could see how that would be a blessing.

Fade Spirits are innately good, they only want to help us mortals as if deep within them, they remember what it was like to be alive and still wish to nurture and protect us.

Fade demons on the other hand are evil, underhanded and duplicitous, offering power, wealth, anything in order to gain a mage's trust. Ultimately, they want to possess a living mage, to live in the mortal world and feed on a mortal's fear, greed, desire and hate. They want the mortal world to burn and bleed, to create pain and suffering, to have a continuous source of sustenance over which we mortals would have no control. They are the darkness to the Fade Spirits light. They are two sides of the same coin and the balance between them is tenuous and easily torn.

She sat quietly and watched me at war with myself and how I came to terms with what she had said. She was correct, I couldn't pass judgement andonly time would tell whether this was a good or bad thing. I stood and held out my hand to her. Christie took it, gave it a squeeze and just like that, she linked her arm through mine and we walked to Rosalie's, each lost in our own thoughts.

Just before reaching the house, I stopped her and said, "Whilst I don't know if what she has done is a good thing, I will talk to her. Maybe speaking to her will help me understand this better. I gave you my word that I wouldn't say anything and I meant it. I won't. I know that sometimes I haven't always been the best friend in the world. I know I put you and the others through the wringer when we were growing up, what with my escapes and you guys covering for me. Just know this, I will not speak about this to anyone other than you or Wynne. I give you my solemn promise, Christie."

She looked at me, her eyes bright with tears. She reached up and hugged me close and I heard her whisper, "I knew we could count on you."

The rest of the day passed in a blur of laughter. The evening meal was shared with friends, goodbyes were spoken, embraces and tears were shared. As the door shut, I realised that once again, my life had changed, but the hoped-for outcomes would have to wait until the end of the Blight.

After sending Rosalie to bed, I cleaned up and quietly put away crockery and silverware. As I was banking the fire, there came a quiet knock at the door which startled me out of my ruminations.

Wynne stood on the other side of the door, looking tired and hopeful. I took her arm and brought her in.

"Take a seat by the fire. Would you like a drink? I was just thinking about you." I babbled.

"Oh... Good things I hope and I'd love a glass of wine, if you have it," she replied quietly.

I went into the kitchen and opened a bottle of red that I'd been saving for a special occasion. I collected two glass goblets and joined Wynne by the dying fire. She'd lit a couple of candles and gave a small smile as I sat down across from her. I poured the wine and handed her a glass. She took it, smelt the contents, smiling in appreciation and took a sip, savouring the heady scent of red berries and spices.

"Hmmm, wonderful," she said with apparent pleasure. She studied me for a few moments before speaking again. "Thank you Anders for agreeing to Christie's request. I know you didn't need to so I thought I would come and speak to you in case you had any questions or wanted to know anything about my condition."

"Condition." I spluttered. "You make it sound as if you were pregnant and that after nine months it'll all be over. By the Maker Wynne, what were you thinking?"

"Well, in all intents and purposes it will be, I just don't know how long I've got." she said. " I've just got to be careful and use what I have with care and thought. Hopefully I will have longer than we think. To answer your second question, well I wasn't, thinking that is. I was unconscious. The Spirit took things into its own hands, so to speak. It deemed that I was still needed, it wasn't my time to go. I made no pact with it. Made it no promises, and guaranteed it nothing."

I looked at the wine swirling around my glass, thinking about what Christie and Wynne had said. "Can you control it?" I asked eventually.

"How do you mean? Stop it? Encourage it?" When I nodded, she continued. "To some extent yes I can. If I'm in a bind or the others are in trouble, then I can't do anything about it—the spirit breaks free of my control and just _is_. It seems to know when things are dire and takes things into its own hands as it were.

It also knows that it cannot often intervene, but it seems to _feel_ when I need it and it begins to build within me. I have been able to stop it on two occasions. I guess the more we get used to each other, the more I'll be able to control it when it tries to exert itself when I don't need it to."

I nodded. "I imagine it will come down to give and take. You'll have to learn each others' strengths and weaknesses, without draining each other to the point of death," I said matter of factly. "Aren't you worried though? Do you really have a true, symbiotic relationship? Are you one or two entities? Do you feel it all the time? Does it... I'm sorry I'm trying to understand how you can be so calm about this. It could kill you. Aren't you afraid?"

Smiling she looked at me and I was struck by how much younger she looked, how vital and full of health. Her skin glowed, her eyes were a beautiful deep blue, her hair soft and shining in the light of the candles and dying fire.

"I can see how you would have questions, the fact is I don't know. Sometimes I can feel it watching, through my eyes. It loves to look, watch and listen," she laughed. "No, it doesn't speak to me, but I seem to just _know_ when it is there behind my eyes. It has no say in what I do, what I think or believe. It just is. It keeps me alive and I am grateful for that.

However," Wynne said looking down, refusing to look at me "I was worried you'd think I was an abomination, I know that you would have every right to do so, but I was also hoping that you would see this for what it was; my fade spirit acted out of compassion and and saved my life. I've not finished doing what needs to be done yet Anders, the spirit has given me the time to do so."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I'm not sure... I have this feeling that I'm not done here, not in the slightest. Maybe, one day, I will tell you a little more about my past, about _me_. Not yet though, there are other, more important things to think about. This union is a true gift and one I am grateful for and will use with care."

I looked at her and smiled. She was right, I didn't have to understand. I could look at her as being an abomination and shun her. Hadn't she done it once to a friend of ours? But do two wrongs make a right? This was not a demon possessing an unaware mageling, a foolhardy act; this was a spirit of the fade giving back the life of it's user. A true act of compassion, the sort of thing we may dream of but never experience. No, I didn't believe her to be an abomination, she was a healer of exceptional talent, a former mentor and now a friend. I would honour my promises, I was also honoured by the fact that she and Christie had entrusted me with this secret and I took her hands in mine and told her as much.

"Thank you Anders," she said. "I will do what I can for Christie and the others, but you need to prepare yourself, we may not all survive what is to come. The end is near and it will take a sacrifice of tremendous proportions to survive the horror of the Archdemon."

I looked at her, not understanding her meaning. "Do what you can," I begged. "Keep them alive."

"I will do my best," she promised.

Wynne left soon after and I went to bed feeling disquieted and not at all sure about the future as I once had.

By the time I rose in the morning, they had gone.


End file.
